The Marriage
by berrydrake
Summary: What if Katniss and Peeta's star-crossed lovers act was convincing enough to suspend the rebellious sentiment in the districts? Then the victors would not have been reaped for the Quarter Quell and their wedding would have proceeded.
1. Chapter 1: The Wedding

Chapter 1: The Wedding

"_Convince __**me**__."_

The words echo in my head constantly.

"_Convince __**me**__." And if you don't, I will kill everyone you love. I will destroy everything you hold dear._

I finger the luxurious fabric of my wedding dress, one of Cinna's exquisite creations, and sigh. According to reporters in the Capitol, the day after tomorrow will be the happiest day of my life. Even though I had never planned to get married, I always assumed that if I did, I would have been glad to do so. It's not as if I don't care for him. I possibly even love him. I just never had the option to decide that for myself.

I hear a knock at the door and Prim pokes her head in. "The prep team is here."

I nod and take a focused breath. After several hours of waxing, scrubbing, shining, and moisturizing, I am ready to be devoured by voracious cameras. My mother and sister undergo a less rigorous cleansing process. I can tell by Prim's glow that she's never felt prettier, so I tell her so, making her smile even more. My prep team chooses the finest clothing that my family owns, dresses that I bought them with my victory wealth. They still declared them to be barely suitable, but Cinna designed gowns complementary to mine for the actual ceremony, so these will be good enough just to travel to the Capitol. We won't have much camera time before the wedding anyway.

Outside we meet up with Effie, Haymitch, my fiancée Peeta, and his prep team. Peeta and I exchange terse smiles.

"Love birds," Effie chides, "show some excitement! You're getting married in two days!"

I give Effie a weak smile and slip my hand into Peeta's.

Peeta's family, including his oldest brother Ethan's wife and infant, meet us at the train station. They have been scrubbed down and prepped just like mine. His mother is the happiest I have ever seen her. "Aren't we lucky? Not many people from District Twelve get to visit the Capitol. And for such a fine occasion!"

An occasion where no one dies.

Prim is sitting next to me with her hands in her lap. "Yes, it is very kind of the Capitol to host my sister's wedding."

I smile at the woman my sister is becoming. She's so intuitive that I don't even need to explain to her the subtexts of this wedding. I can tell she's trying to hide her excitement at the chance to visit the Capitol. "The Capitol is a pretty impressive place, Prim. You're really going to love it."

She smiles at me with a blush. After that, she bubbles eagerly about our trip.

Peeta's brothers and father are more interested in the food than the luxurious amenities. My mother mostly stays by Prim's side, although she is occasionally preoccupied with Peeta's sister-in-law and her baby.

Effie informs us that the best man, the maid of honor—we chose Ethan and Prim—our parents, Peeta, and I must deliver individual speeches at our wedding. She hands everyone pre-written speeches. We grimace at Effie's writing, but Haymitch instructs us revise them for personal touches and sincerity and to confirm any revision with him. He quietly reminds Peeta and me that the purpose of this show is to convince the districts that our defiant actions in the arena were driven by desperate love and we are nothing but grateful to the Capitol for allowing us to be together. Peeta rewrites his easily, but my thoughts do not flow. Instead, I stare vacantly out of the window of the train. It will take us to the Capitol in less than a day. Every mile we pass brings me farther away from Gale.

That night, Peeta hears my screams and slips into my bed with me to calm my agitated dreams. I don't tell him that most of my dreams are about Gale, but I suspect he knows anyway. I wake up screaming Gale's name when President Snow drops a bomb on his house. One dream wakes me up shivering. I was hunting with Gale in the woods. I followed him, staring at his back, but he never turned around. My legs were too heavy to keep up and my voice dissipated before it left my throat. I reached for him, but he continued walking until he faded away, disappearing forever into the woods. When I wake up, Peeta is holding me tightly to his chest, trying to suppress my quaking. I try not to let him see that I am crying, but he sees and wipes away my tears. He doesn't ask why and I don't tell him.

The next morning, his mother catches him leaving my room. During breakfast she makes snide comments about the impropriety of an unmarried couple engaging in such behavior, all the while glaring at me. I ignore her until my mother interjects, "Yes, I'm so glad you raised Peeta to be such a gentleman. Otherwise I would never feel comfortable allowing him to spend the night with her. He's such a blessing to us, because Katniss has had such violent dreams since her father died. Peeta is so comforting to her." Mrs. Mellark's demeanor changes, and suddenly she's so delighted with her son and me. My mom continues, "We all get better sleep actually. Katniss used to wake up screaming. No more." Our mothers smile warmly at each other. Mrs. Mellark must be a heavy sleeper.

We arrive in the Capitol, and even Peeta's brothers are at the windows, chattering excitedly about how astonishing the gleaming city is. There are rooms prepared for us in the top two floors of the Tribute Tower. Our families are excited at the privilege of staying in such a decadent and famed locale, but I suspect that this is merely the Capitol's means of containing us. Can't have second-class citizens running loose in the Capitol, after all.

My family and I are situated in the top floor, and Peeta and his family on the floor beneath. Apparently, the rumors of Peeta and my tendency to sleep together have reached our wedding planners, so they placed us on different floors to deter the unseemly behavior. Even while forcing me to spend the rest of my life with Peeta, the interfering Capitol is taking away the only moments of intimacy that truly belong to us.

Even though her room is just as fine as my family's, Peeta's mother continuously grumbles at not receiving the Penthouse. She snipes that her family is just as important as mine until Haymitch says, "I think the attendants informed them of your concerns about propriety and told them that it would be better to put Peeta on the lower floor and make sure you are there to supervise him." Mrs. Mellark lifts her nose at this, clearly pleased believing someone considered her opinion important.

The day is filled with wedding preparations, interviews, public appearances, and, for some reason, a "rehearsal dinner." Thankfully, the guest list for the rehearsal dinner is small, at least by Capitol standards; however, the guests are no less intolerable. One guest in particular stands out in the detestable crowd: President Snow. The mere sight of him daunts me. My stomach contorts thinking about his rosy, bloody scent. Peeta grips my hand protectively.

He sits a few yards from me, close enough for me to smell the roses but not the blood. The scent is enough that I can't eat. Effie chastises me for my full plate. I tell her that the excitement and nervousness have taken away my appetite. I can feel his snaky eyes on me all night and I'm so tense I'm beginning to hurt.

We are not yet legal to drink, but we are allowed champagne for the toasts. I hear the chime of a fork on glass, and I almost jump out of my seat and run when I see President Snow stand up. He begins his toast, thanking all the guests for coming—apparently he's hosting this rehearsal dinner, a publicity stunt I would guess—and congratulating us. "These two children have shown us adults what it means to love, and I know that they will continue showing the world true love all their lives." His message to me could not be clearer. I smile as brightly as I can and lift my glass. Peeta kisses my cheek and wiggles his hand out of my grasp. I realize I had been gripping it painfully. I whisper my apologies and he leans his ear close to my mouth, making it look like a tender moment between us.

Effie makes her speech next, mainly gushing about how proud she is of her Victors.

Haymitch, Cinna, and Portia all deliver calculated speeches but with bits of truth that make me wonder if they don't actually believe our love story.

Haymitch, who has had the courtesy to stay relatively sober for his toast, said that I tried so hard not to care for Peeta, but I was smitten before the games even started. "Once the Game makers told Katniss she could keep Peeta, there was no going back. She's a little young so she's still a little dramatic. A piece of advice, Sweetheart: you don't need to resort to suicide every time you and your husband get into a fight." Everyone laughs. "Good luck, Peeta." More laughter. I don't appreciate much being painted like a silly, dramatic teenager, but I suppose it serves its purpose. Still, I don't think it's entirely inappropriate to scowl. Peeta chuckles and pulls me in for a good-natured hug and kiss.

Cinna jokes with a wink about me being his fashion protégé. He finishes with a statement that I'm not sure is calculated or genuine, "My life is all about inspiration. Katniss's fire inspires me. Peeta's goodness inspires her. Their love inspires all of us. Their dedication to each other is amazing."

Portia talks about how wonderful it has been to watch our relationship grow. She apparently recognized Peeta's feelings from the beginning and schemed to push us together.

Most of our styling team members take a turn to talk about working with us, although they glorify themselves more than us. I am already feeling like the number of speeches are in excess when people I don't know stand and give their accounts on how our relationship touched them or boast on whatever connection they have with us. By the end of it I'm certain that the true motive for toasts is not to congratulate the new couple but for attention and social distinction. I'm thankful that the dinner ends shortly after because I don't think I can hide my disgust much longer. I'm so sick of being used as recreation for these people's self-centered lives.

Back at the Tribute Tower, Peeta asks me to go to the roof with him. Still angry, I snap, "We're stuck together for the rest of our lives. Do you really want to start early?" I walk away from him and lock myself in my room. I'm immediately in tears, cursing myself. I have to remind myself not to take this out on Peeta. It's not easy for him either knowing the one he loves is only marrying him out of necessity. My bitterness, guilt, and loneliness keep me awake half the night.

The next day, once my prep team is done with me, Cinna checks my make-up and hair for final adjustments. He grips my shoulders. "Just remind yourself that this might have been the path you would've chosen. I don't like to tell people how they feel, but you love that boy."

I nod, even though his words don't help much.

"You've got this," he insisted.

"I don't even have my speech finished."

"You didn't finish your speech?"

"Well, I have what Effie wrote, but that isn't going to convince anyone." I sigh in frustration.

He smiles. "Let's see what we can do." An hour later, the prose is perfect, but I'm not confident I can pull it off convincingly. Cinna slips my gown on me. The silk gown, chosen by voters from the Capitol, is littered with pearls, wrapped around my neck, crowning my veil, and sewn right into the fabric. Cinna's creations are always so striking, and this beautiful dress is a shining example. I might have been glad to wear it had this wedding been my choice, but I would really prefer to wear a simple dress appropriate for a poor girl from District 12, adorned with my mother's single-strand pearl necklace. Compared to that pleasant simplicity, this dress is flamboyant, pretentious, and raucous. Cinna presses his forehead to mine. "I'm still betting on you, girl on fire."

I exhale and straighten my shoulders.

The wedding is an even grander event than I expected. More than a thousand Capitol citizens attend, yet no one from District 12 besides our families. The cathedral is so grandiose that I wish I could be visiting on a less requisite occasion. So many cameras are flashing at me as I approach the building that it is blinding even in full daylight. Inside, as if the decadently sculpted and painted interior was insufficient, the cathedral is decorated with mountainous flower arrangements in every empty corner, windowsill, shelf, and nook. Braids of ribbon and flowered vines twist up every pillar. Pink petals line the aisle.

A few high status reporters follow us into the bridal chamber and shove microphones in my face as I wait for the ceremony to begin. I force my mouth into a smile and try to answer their questions pleasantly and excitedly. After over an hour of this I send a pleading look to Effie, who ushers them away. I collapse back onto a luxurious white velvet chaise. Why couldn't we hold our forced wedding in our own home with our own customs, where we could at least feel like we own part of our lives? Would the Capitol citizens decide the names of our children as well? A chill runs through me, and I brush away the thought of the children I would be required to bear and, eventually, to give up to the Hunger Games. I'm certain the Reapings are often rigged to select Victor's children. The children of the only two Victors to ever win in the same year stand no chance.

Prim pets my hair, careful not to dishevel my ringlets and braids. She is just lovely in her silk pink dress adorned with pearls. Cinna's dress for my mother is simply perfect: a fitted satin beige dress that ends at the knee, the bodice embroidered with beige pearls, and an attached fitted jacket. I wish I could be wearing it.

I don't get to rest long. The church bells are ringing so the bridal party meets downstairs. Prim leads the march down the aisle, followed by my bridesmaids, two Capitol girls whom I don't know wearing similar dresses. Haymitch escorts me down the aisle, and I'm none-too-pleased that the Effie decided he would be the father-figure for me. I wish she had asked Cinna. Or asked me who I wanted. I start to tear up thinking of my father. I wish I could block out the cameras, but I remind myself to force a smile so the country will think I am crying out of joy. I see my mother standing in the first row. I smile at her, knowing it a big day for her despite the circumstances, and then I look toward the altar.

I'm stunned at how handsome Peeta is in his white tuxedo. The look on his face tells me that he is astonished at what Cinna has managed to do with me. I reach him and take his hand and he swallows visibly. We kneel in front of the altar and listen to the minister ramble on about marriage and devotion and mostly the glory of the Capitol. We stand again to recite our vows. As I say the vows that Effie wrote, I remember the disconnected feeling of my first kiss with Peeta, staged to elicit donations from sponsors, and how all I could register was how feverish his lips were. I slip the ring, designed by Cinna and Portia to complement mine, onto his finger.

Peeta's face is aglow with bliss. He is such a good actor, but I can see the grief in his eyes, even as he veils it behind genuine love. Despite his efforts, a tear slips from his eye as he looks down to place the ornate ring on my finger. The crowd coos and sighs.

I stare into the beautiful eyes of this wonderful man. He loves me so much, and I am causing him pain. Do I love him? Can I love him? I know I couldn't attain a better man, but is that enough? The unfairness of it all overwhelms me and I begin to tremble and cry. Peeta finds his strength in the need to comfort me. He caresses my cheek with the back of his hand, catching my tears. He whispers so that only I hear, "We're in this together, ok?"

I don't know what exactly I feel for Peeta, but I know that I care for him and my feelings are so strong that I can barely speak, but I grip his hands and manage a hoarse whisper, "together."

He nods and doesn't hesitate when the minister instructs us to seal our vows with a kiss.

We smile and wave until we close the door to our limo. Then I deflate onto my seat and stare out my window. We're married now. I close my eyes and try not to think of Gale.

He has barely spoken to me, hardly looked at me, since Peeta proposed to me on live television, and now he got to watch us getting married on live television. No, Gale probably is in the woods avoiding the broadcast, but he is thinking of me, and I am thinking of him.

We arrive to the reception locale and Peeta tells me to wait as I reach for the door handle. He exits out of his side and, smiling broadly, opens my door for me. I can't help smiling back as he offers his hand to me. I take his hand and step out delicately. He then kisses my hand and leads me inside. He's so good at this.

The ballroom is in the fanciest place I have ever seen, even on TV. A pianist and string quartet at the far end of the room fill the room with angelic hums. The ceiling and walls are sculpted, carved, and painted in gold filigree. The recessed ceiling is a scene of clouds, birds, cherubs, and Rubenesque men draped in white fabric. They all look to be floating from the ceiling, not painted on. A crystal chandelier hangs above almost every table in the room and framing those are silk fabrics draped along the ceiling to look like flowers. Along the wall, columns and ruffled curtains frame alcoves that open into balconies. Marble statues of naked men and women are scattered throughout the room. I feel like I can't touch anything here, as if the soot that has permeated my pores from years of living in the Seam will seep out and stain the finery.

Even amid the entire splendor, my eyes almost immediately fixate on the table of food. I am famished and haven't eaten all day, but we don't get to eat yet. First, we have to pose for literally hundreds of photos. In front of a frilly backdrop, the photographers snaps multiple photos first of Peeta and me, then us with our parents, then with our entire family, then with the entire bridal party, then just my family, then just his family, then me with his family, he with mine, and dozens of other puerile combinations.

I wonder what they plan to do with all these photos, since my family owns maybe three photographs altogether. I shouldn't be surprised at this unnecessary triviality. This is the Capitol after all.

After the required photos come the required dances. A voice announces Peeta and my first dance as a married couple to "our song", but I wonder how it could be our song when I've never heard it. The lights dim and a spotlight beams on us. I really wouldn't mind if I weren't so hungry. I bite my lip and glance longingly at the buffet table. Peeta presses his lips to my temple and a chill runs up my spine.

"I'm hungry too, but you need to be in love with me and not food just for a few minutes," he whispers.

"Can I eat you then?" I whisper back.

He chuckles. "Sure, just maybe not in front of everyone." I blush.

Then our wedding director announces a dance with our new parents-in-law. Peeta grabs my mother's hands and pulls her onto the dance floor. She is glowing. She understands the forces at play, but even so, this is a big day for her. Besides, she completely adores Peeta.

I'm confused about what I should do until Peeta's father takes my hand, giving me a shy smile. I glance over at Peeta with my mom, look back to my new father-in-law, and return his smile. I decide that I actually like this custom. After a minute of dancing in silence, he says to me, "I have always admired you."

Much like me, the baker is a man of few words. While I wonder where it is that Peeta gets his remarkable eloquence from, I appreciate the taciturn nature of his father. I also know that it is to him that I can attribute Peeta's kindness. "Thank you for your son."

"No, thank you for my son."

The song ends and he squeezes my hand briefly. Somehow I know he understands that Peeta and I didn't choose this situation, but he is hopeful for us nonetheless.

The host then announces that the bride will now dance with her father and the groom with his mother. I frown. Can these Capitol people really be so insensitive and stupid? Peeta is looking at me worriedly as his mother, who is beaming in her fancy dress, takes his hands.

I turn when Haymitch taps me on the shoulder. "I think they mean me." He shrugs. "I gave you away after all."

My face plunges into a full scowl. Haymitch is not my father.

"I don't want to be your damn dad either, Sweetheart. But the Capitol wants us to dance together, and we have a show to put on." He tugs me into an embrace. "My daughter wouldn't be so damn stubborn."

"She'd be just as self-sufficient, since her father's drunk all the time," I snap.

Haymitch smiles at me venomously and squeezes my hand painfully. I wince and turn it into a smile.

We are finally done with all the posed photos and stupid Capitol customs and allowed to eat. I smile when I see that once again the Capitol chefs have prepared lamb stew for me. They've also made a special effort to include an extensive assortment of breads and decadent cakes.

I carefully load my plate with small portions to include the widest variety of delicious food, remembering the feast party on our Victory Tour. I grimace at the table devoted to numerous vials of vomit-inducing tonic, wishing they hadn't included those.

I sit next to Peeta at the bridal table. "Why didn't you get more food?" I know he must be as hungry as I am, but he has a very sparse sampling on his plate.

He swallows the bite he had been chewing. "I want to try all of the cakes and bread," he explains. The silverware is laid out so carefully that I feel uneasy disturbing it. He is finished before I am and heads to the table of cakes and begins to load his plate with a small sample of each.

Some women who want to comment on every feature of my dress stop me on my way to the dessert table. I smile and nod patiently and answer questions about my fake designing hobby.

Peeta interrupts holding a plate with a pink slice of cake with yellow frosting topped with raspberries. "Try this." He has figured out that my favorite fruit is raspberry. I smile and take a bite from the spoon Peeta holds out for me. He cooks for me enough to know my taste, but I am still amazed at how delicious the raspberry tart with a hint of lemon is. I moan emphatically. He smiles his beautiful smile. "I knew you would love it." I take the plate from him and he kisses my cheek as I am indulging in another bite. The women I was talking to are all touching their hearts, so moved at Peeta's gesture. He has returned to the cake table to talk to the baker, no doubt asking for the recipe.

After the crowd has had time to visit the buffet at least once, an Avox places glasses of champagne in front of us, and I notice that everyone in the room has one. Ethan stands and taps his glass, and it chimes throughout the room. Oh, right. Another round of toasts. I don't see the point of scheduling two separate toast events, but at least only the bridal party and parents are allowed to toast today. Ethan has a similar sense of humor to Peeta and teases him throughout the speech in typical big brother fashion. The crowd laughs at his accounts of Peeta watching me from the bushes, dropping a whole plate of buns when I walked into the bakery, and naming a pet cat Catniss. Peeta blushes bright red, so I know these stories are true.

Prim's toast makes me cry immediately. She states that our father's death left a hole in our lives, and Peeta has helped to fill that hole. "I don't think Katniss can see it but Peeta has changed her. It's so hard for Katniss to love someone, but Peeta broke through her defenses."

I've changed? I wonder if that's really true.

Then Peeta stands with a smile. "Well, first thanks to my brothers for their years of putting up with my unrequited crush on Katniss. As much as I tried to keep it a secret, somehow they figured it out. The teasing really helped me to not tell her for eleven years." The crowd laughs. "To my parents, you provided such a wonderful life to me and have always been supportive. Your love will serve as an example for our lives together." I force myself to smile wider, still impressed at how smoothly Peeta can lie. "To Effie, Haymitch, and our styling team, thank you all so much. None of this would be possible without you. I could go on and on about all the things each of you has done for us, but I don't want to." A woman in the audience honks with laughter and others chuckle. Peeta pauses, then takes my hand and looks me straight in the eye. "And finally, the woman I love. It hasn't been easy, and I'm sure you will never make it easy on me," -more laughter- "but I wouldn't have it any other way. I'll do whatever I can to make you happy."

He kisses my hand then plants a soft kiss on my lips. I stand shakily. I still hate public speaking, but Cinna and I worked for hours getting this speech right. "First, thank you to the people of the Capitol who sponsored my wedding. Everything is all so beautiful. It's way more than a poor girl from District 12 could ever even dream." I pause to let the crowd applaud themselves. "Second, I need to thank the Game makers and especially President Snow for their generosity. I know every day that it's because of their compassion and sympathy for our tragic situation that it's possible for us to be together today. Thanks to you, I got married to the man I love today." I smile as brightly as I can manage as the crowd roars. When they quiet, I continue, "And I have one more 'thank you.' Peeta, you saved my life, before we ever even spoke. I wouldn't even be here today if it wasn't for your kindness and love." I trail off as something in my head clicks. "Prim's right. I spent years avoiding you, but I always noticed and kept track of the 'boy with the bread.' More and more I'm realizing how important you are to me. You got me through the worst times of my life; you gave me hope. You still give me hope, and I can't imagine living my life without you." I reach for his hand and give it a squeeze so that he knows I mean what I'm saying, even if I'm not sure it's out of anything more than friendship. I mouth to him, "together." For the cameras, I kiss him.

The Mellarks stand and toast together, although Peeta's mom dominates the speech. She talks about how they always thought I was a fine girl. She flatters herself for raising such a generous son and claims that they always try to help the needy. All of this is an outright lie. That woman was going to let me starve.

My mom stands. "First, thank you all for attending my daughter's wedding. I wish her father could be here. Katniss and her father had a very special connection, and he loved his girls so much. After losing him, Katniss had to grow up too fast. Peeta has taught her to trust again and to be vulnerable. I am seeing sides of her that I haven't seen since her father was alive. We are so glad to welcome Peeta into our family. He's already such an important part of our lives."

Some Avoxes roll out a large cake decorated with strands of candy pearls and candy feathers. I could tell Cinna had a hand in the design. On top are plastic carvings that look just like Peeta and me. We have to hold a knife together and cut the first slices of the cake and feed them to each other. I'm thinking that this is a ridiculous tradition, but Peeta puts some icing on my nose and makes everyone laugh.

The celebration continues for hours, longer than any wedding I've ever attended. I have to dance with politicians, Game Makers, Victors, designers, and lot of flamboyant people I don't know. The only dances I enjoy are with Peeta and Cinna. My aching smile collapses briefly as a stranger I don't care about congratulates us and gushes how pleased she is to meet us. Peeta thanks her then pulls me to him for a kiss.

"It looks like your cheeks are about to fall off," he whispers.

I sigh. "It is so obvious?"

He takes my hand. "Come on." He leads me to the floor and leaves me for a moment to speak to the band. They end their upbeat tune early and begin playing a slow, romantic tune.

"Relax for a little while, okay Kat? The band is going to play slow songs for us for a little while. Just close your eyes. No one is here. It's just you and me. You can even pretend I'm not here if it helps." He was saying this sincerely, always so generously considerate of my feelings even at the expense of his own.

I hide my face in his shoulder and allow the familiar warmth and security of Peeta's embrace to comfort me. All our nights together have me immediately at ease in his arms. It is not long before I have forgotten the crowd and this party and relax into his body. Suddenly, I'm all too aware of his athletic physique and his sexual allure that I'm always trying to ignore. I can't describe how I feel for this boy but I let myself melt into him. I inhale his masculine scent and smile thinking that somehow he always smells slightly of fresh bread. As my breath caresses his neck, he swallows palpably and I see the muscles in his neck ripple. I have an impetuous desire to kiss his neck, but then I remember I'm on camera and turn away, feeling sick in the pit of my stomach. I see most of the crowd smiling at us adoringly so I close my eyes. I don't want to exit our intimate bubble however, so I rest my head on his shoulder and pull him as close to me as I can, desperately seeking that sanctuary again, but it is gone so I excuse myself to go to the restroom.

Even the restroom is one of the fanciest places I have ever been. I sink into a soft silk armchair and am thankful for once to my wedding planner for providing a private bathroom for the bridal party. Even so, I cannot truly relax because I know that my absence will not go unnoticed. I grimace thinking about the partiers and reporters speculating about my lengthy bathroom activities.

When I exit the bathroom, Peeta is dancing with a very beautiful Capitol woman. I press my lips together, trying not to appear as jealous as I feel. I see a few people chuckling at me. I realize that I should use this opportunity to demonstrate my love for Peeta, but they have no right to entertain themselves with my feelings, so I decide to distract myself with the buffet table instead, even though I'm still quite full. The song changes and I can't help but check if he's still dancing with her.

I'm relieved to see that Prim has stolen him away and I'm sure that she did so intentionally. She and Peeta seem to be genuinely enjoying themselves, and I smile thinking how fond they have become of one another. I'm suddenly so thankful to have them both alive and with me that I know I can't have any regrets. I would not change volunteering for Prim, and I would not change saving Peeta's life. Gale's face flashes in my mind, and I'm mournful for the loss of the potential life with him and possibly even his friendship, but the alternative is simply unthinkable.

I watch my sister, whom I love so much, and my husband, whom I care about more than I can describe and possibly love as well. I shake Gale from my mind. I have to let him go.

I'm suddenly unbearably lonely, so I cross the dance floor and wrap my arms around Peeta. Prim kisses Peeta and me on our cheeks and flits away. Peeta at first thinks I want to dance, but I just hold him, my feet planted on the ground.

He wraps me in a tight hug and whispers, "You okay?"

"I don't know," I say into his shirt.

We don't dance; we just hold each other and ignore the upbeat music and the chattering, laughing, swooning crowd. To the musician's credit, they begin playing slow songs for us, but we remain motionless in each other's arms.

Thankfully, Effie takes this as a sign that we are simply too exhausted to continue this party, which has been true for hours. It is long after midnight anyway and we yet have another "big, big, big" day ahead.

My new husband is now allowed to sleep in the same bed as me. I snuggle up to him wondering what exactly that means for us. It's been such an emotional and exhausting day that I can't stay awake long to mull it over.


	2. Chapter 2: The Honeymoon

Chapter 2: The Honeymoon

While I really want to go back home and spend a day hunting to relax, absorb the events of the past few days, and decide how I feel about them; my new husband are I are sent off on our honeymoon right away. No one in District 12 can ever afford to take time off work, much less go away on vacation, so I suppose I should feel somewhat grateful, but I'm only annoyed. Who in the Capitol thinks it is acceptable to make these decisions for us?

Our honeymoon is on an island chain that I never knew existed called the Sierra Nevadas, where only the very rich can afford to vacation. The trip south of the Capitol takes three hours on the hovercraft. Most of the attendants are Avoxes, so Peeta and I would be quite alone if they hadn't sent a camera crew along with us. I bitterly wonder if anyone else has had to tolerate infiltrators documenting their honeymoon for the world to watch. Are these snoops hoping to catch us having sex? The thought makes the bile in my stomach churn. Luckily (if you want to call it that), they will not broadcast it live, so we should occasionally have some respite, at least I hope. It's stressful to film live, when no mistake can be edited out and every second counts.

The camera crew films us as we explore our lavish room, which is even nicer than the ones at the Tribute Tower. Glass doors open out to a balcony that overlooks the beach. A large hot tub sits in an alcove of the bedroom. A gauzy canopy drapes over the biggest bed I've ever seen. Is that really made for only two people?

Peeta crawls under the canopy into the bed. "Oh wow."

"What?"

"Come here. The bed is amazing."

I glance warily at the camera crew. I don't want them filming us in bed together, but I remember that they have plenty of footage of us sleeping together during the Games. I sit next to him, look at the canopy above us, and laugh. "It's like our cave."

"This is a hell of a lot more comfortable than the cave."

I stretch out next to him. The bed is the softest thing I've ever felt. I sink right into it. "Oh wow. Let's just take a nap right here." Peeta begins to snore obnoxiously and I giggle.

We really want to stay in bed to relax and unwind, but the camera crew director Monette is eager to get some good footage to arrange what she calls a "teaser trailer". Apparently doing what we actually want is too boring. I comply, thinking that I can relax on the beach.

The director of the camera crew, Monette, gives me a bikini. I protest at wearing something so revealing, especially on camera, but she insists. I try it on and gulp at my reflection. I've always been in good shape, but I always considered myself fairly sexless. This suit changes all that. It gives me more cleavage than I knew I had and shows more skin than I've ever shown in public in my entire life.

I've seen Peeta without a shirt before, but he's never seen me like this. Somehow, dressed as I am, his shirtless state flusters me. He sucks in his breath once he sees me. I sit next to him stiffly and he lets out his breath slowly.

"Oh, my god!" the director cries. "You two are acting like a pair of virgins!" We blush even more at this and she makes us repeat the scene several more times. "Peeta tell her how amazing she looks!" For our next scene, she instructs Peeta to rub sun lotion on me while I sunbathe. I'm incredibly uncomfortable being filmed this way, even as I'm tingling at the thought of Peeta touching me.

As Peeta rubs lotion on my body, I lay down and close my eyes, hoping to disguise my chagrin. His hands are large, warm, gentle, and slightly calloused and strong from hours spent kneading dough; and now they are caressing my bare skin. I hope the redness in my face will be attributed to the heat. Once Peeta is done with the lotion, he asks for water for me.

"I need more clothes." I shoot him a pitiful look.

"Maybe," he dissents, "but you do look really good, you know, without any clothes." He grins at me mischievously.

"Peeta!" I hiss, my face burning.

Suddenly Peeta gets a glint in his eye. "Stay there." He gets up and leaves.

"What?" I call after him. I give a bewildered shrug when the camera crew asks about Peeta, ready to go again.

He returns with his sketchbook.

"You are not going to draw me!"

"All you need to do is keep still." He smiles.

"Come on," I laugh. "Draw the ocean or something."

"It's not as beautiful as you." We blush at each other. "You're like a goddess, like Aphrodite or something," he teases.

I chuckle. "Hardly, Apollo."

He is already working. "This is going to be a really sexy picture. I could make a lot of money drawing nude pictures of you."

"Don't you dare," I warned, grinning.

I let him draw me, my eyes trained on his face. I love watching his expression as he concentrates on his work. The wind catches one of his curls, glowing golden in the sun. And he thinks I'm the beautiful one? If I could draw at all, I would draw him. I think about Apollo being the sun god. Isn't he also the god of art?

He shows me the finished product and I have to admit how beautiful it is. He asks me to pose again. "Why don't I draw you this time?" I kid.

"I wouldn't mind, but I don't want to waste this expensive paper for a stick-figure drawing." He has already begun sketching.

I laugh. "Well how about I describe you and you draw, like we do for the plant book?"

"How about you hush and look sexy while I draw you?" He gives me a wry glance.

I roll my eyes. "I can hush. I'm not so sure about the looking sexy part."

"I'd say you're doing pretty well," he says softly. I feel giddy for a moment but shake it away. Not with all of Panem watching.

Instead, I look out and consider the scenery. The blue waters, white sand, and green mountains are undeniably beautiful, but it is quite hot and the gritty sand is getting everywhere. I don't really understand the appeal. "I've never been to a beach before."

"Well, of course not. There are none in 12."

I consider the lake outside the fence where my father used to take me. "You don't know how to swim, do you?"

He gives me a puzzled look. "No, why would I? Do you?"

I stand and hold out my hand. "Come on. I'll teach you."

We wade out far enough that the waves are somewhat calmer, and one of the camera men follow us with a camera that I presume is waterproof. He films us while I teach Peeta to tread water. He isn't quite getting it, so I teach him the easier breast stroke. He laughs excitedly as he swims with the surging waves.

That evening, Monette gives me a dinner dress to try on. I start to head to the bathroom. "Oh, you can change in front of me."

I blush looking at Peeta. He is smiling. I can't protest without raising much suspicion. I suppose I need to get used to this anyway. I undress, thankful that I don't need to remove any undergarments.

Peeta watches me with an amused smile as I slip on the dress. I frown at the chest, which is clearly too loose.

"Well, that's not going to work. I'll be right back." Monette leaves.

I glare at Peeta.

"What? I'm allowed to see you naked now." He is grinning widely. "Come on. Will you grow up? That bikini showed more than your underwear."

"I guess so." I'm still self-conscious though.

Monette returns with another dress and a bra-panty set. "You can't wear those grandma undies with this dress, so change into this."

I take the lingerie and hesitate, thinking frantically.

"Come on. We need to get you ready." As she starts unzipping my dress, Peeta rolls over, pretending to be sleepy. I silently thank him as I get naked, blushing to even be in the same room as him.

"Much better," Monette states as she zips up my dress. "Okay, now hair and makeup. Peeta, get dressed. There are tuxedos for you in the closet." She and her assistant do my make-up and curl my hair while Peeta tries on his suit. I wonder why they didn't send my own styling team along, not that I want more people on this trip scrutinizing my marriage, even if they aren't hard to fool. It would be nice to have an ally like Cinna here, however.

Dinner is on a covered deck outside of a beachside restaurant.

As we sit, a woman at a nearby table gasps sharply. "It's Katniss and Peeta!" She rushes to us and soon her companion and another couple join her. "Oh my god! It really is you! Are you on your honeymoon?"

"Yes we are," I answer, feeling uneasy at this woman's energy. I feel like she's going to knock me unconscious with her enormous jewels.

"Can we have an autograph!" the man gushes. He's wearing even more jewelry than her.

"Sure," Peeta answers, smiling easily. Someone provides a pen and a few paper napkins with the name of the restaurant, Sierra Beach Grill, inked on. Peeta writes on each of the napkins, "Much love, Peeta" and passes it to me. His handwriting is much better than mine. I sign my name under his and hand them back to the fans. They goad us to kiss, then again when they aren't satisfied with our passion.

A waiter arrives amid the chaos and plants pieces of paper in front of us then asks what we would like to drink.

"Water," I manage.

"I'd like a fruit juice." Peeta glances at the paper. "Ki… kiwee? Is that good?"

"Our kiwi juice is top-notch, sir."

"I'll try that." The waiter leaves and Peeta continues reading.

I pick up the paper, which has descriptions of food on it. I'm feeling bewildered, but I'm guessing this is the available dishes they have. "I've never been to a restaurant before." I've been to the Hob, but the only meal options are whatever can be made with the ingredients available that day.

Our fans coo. "You poor dear. Try the roast duck with the persimmon sauce. It is my favorite!"

"No, she likes lamb. You should get the roast lamb with the pistachio stuffing."

"Oh, everything here is good!"

I look to Peeta, who is smiling and listening to their advice. His composure amazes me.

Once the admirers return to their seats, I order the lamb like they advised and Peeta orders a seared salmon with a balsamic glaze. I wonder if he knows what that is.

Finally, it is quiet with just Peeta and me. The camera men are placed strategically to catch Peeta and my faces individually but still out of each other's sight-line. They are making me really nervous and I realize that I don't have much to say, so I just smile.

"Katniss, relax." I try to smile less forcefully. "I said relax." I give up on smiling.

Peeta slides his drink to me. "This is really good. Try it."

I try it. "It is really good." I slide it back. "I guess I should have ordered a fruit drink. I didn't recognize the fruits, though."

"You just gotta pick one and try."

I hear Monette sigh. I can't blame her. This is not exactly riveting. Eventually she suggests that we talk about the wedding, so we comment on the decorations and our clothes and the speeches and the food until finally our meals arrives. Peeta forks into his fish and pauses, confused. "This is raw inside." He shows me. The outer rim of the fish is brown and white and the inside is a bright pink. "Is that what seared means?"

We hear some chuckles. Give us a break. The only fish we get in 12 are the ones I catch illegally.

"That is seared," the man at the next table offers.

"Well if that's how they eat it." Peeta takes a bite. "It's different. It's pretty good, but you may have to take care of a sick husband tonight."

I smile. "That's fine. It would be appropriate to reenact how we got together." He chuckles at me.

It's much easier to hold a natural conversation, although not quite as exciting as Monette wants, with food to talk over. We try each other's food; Peeta talks about cooking; I make whatever idle comments I can think of. I can tell from Monette's face that she only has a few seconds of mildly interesting footage.

Peeta suggests, "We should get dessert. They have some kind of milk cake that sounds interesting."

It sounds bizarre to me until I try it. "Oh, my god. I wish I could give some to Prim. She would love it." I take another bite. "She could even use milk from her goat."

"I'm gonna go ask for the recipe." Peeta hurries off the kitchen, as I knew he would.

"That's a fine man you have there," the older man at the next table tells me.

"I know," I say earnestly. "He's one of the best people I know."

"How are you enjoying your honeymoon?" a woman at another table asks.

"Well, we just got here today. It's really beautiful here." I hope she doesn't notice that I'm evading her question.

"Where do people in District 12 usually go on their honeymoons?"

"No one in District 12 can afford to have a honeymoon." I force a smile on my face through the chorus of "aww"s .

"Are you guys gonna hike up the mountain?"

"Oh! Uh, I guess so. That sounds nice." Even nicer since is the idea that I would have a choice.

"You should go to the cape. The view from the cliff is amazing, and just past that is the lagoon!"

"Um, sure!" What?

They give me more suggestions of how to enjoy the island, using words I don't even understand, so I just nod along.

Peeta returns. "Got it. First thing when we get home, I'll make Prim a _tres leches_ cake."

Great, now Peeta is using alien words. I exhale impatiently. "A what?"

He just shrugs at me. "It's what they call the cake."

Monette pipes up. "Say that line again about the cake, Peeta. Katniss, tell him how much you love him and give him a kiss."

We shoot the scene again, then Monette directs us to the beach for some shots of us walking in the surf, hugging, and kissing with the moonlight reflecting on the water behind us. I'm relieved when she sends us back to our room. Moments after we arrive, Monette enters, without knocking, holding a white, lacy negligee.

"Katniss, put this on."

I stare in horror at the gauzy fabric, the meager underwear clearly showing through.

"What exactly are you planning to film?" Peeta demanded.

Monette looks surprised. "The wedding night, of course."

"Do you guys honestly expect us to let you film us having sex?" He spits.

She laughs. "No, no. Just the events leading up to it. Don't you guys have reality TV shows?"

"No, we don't."

I'm dizzy and everything they are saying sounds slightly muffled. I register that they don't expect us to actually have sex on camera, but we still have to act like we're about to have sex, and I still have to wear… that.

"So what exactly do you want to film?" Peeta pressed.

"Well for the trailer, I just need Katniss in the bathroom trying it on; but for the first episode, I need you to see her come out of the bathroom, then shots of you kissing, romancing," she trails off.

"Define romancing."

Monette is getting irritated and pushing me toward the restroom. "Come on, Peeta. What would you do if she came out of the restroom wearing that? We'll stop before it gets too intimate."

"That's already too intimate," Peeta growled.

Monette ushers me into the bathroom and begins tugging my clothes off me. My skin still feels cold as I numbly pull the panties on. I glance at the mirror. I even look pale. The delicate, frilly outfit looks all wrong on a girl like me, but a small part in the back of my mind wonders what Peeta will think seeing me in this. Monette then spends half an hour adjusting my make-up and hair to look sultrier. When I'm ready she calls the camera in.

"Okay, now what I need you to do: look in the mirror, adjust your clothes, fluff your hair, and say 'Perfect'. Got it?"

I do what she says a dozen times before she is satisfied, and then she films me pretending to put on makeup.

"Good, now stay here."

I hear her positioning the cameras to catch my emergence from the bathroom and Peeta's reaction. She gives Peeta some final instructions and suggestions before calling me to come out.

I emerge, blushing heavily.

Peeta is sitting on the bed, staring at me with his mouth agape. He has to clear his throat before he can speak, and then all he can say is "wow."

Even though I'm keenly aware of the cameras, I'm still flattered… I bite my lip. "Really?" I cross one arm over my body self-consciously.

He takes one long, belabored breath before standing and walking to me. Once he reaches me, however, he's not entirely sure what to do. He kisses me and I put my hands on his chest, keeping a safe distance between us.

Monette interrupts, "Okay, it's fine that you guys are nervous, but you two look like you don't even want to be doing this. From the top."

We shoot the scene several time before she is satisfied. We have to caress tenderly, grab passionately, hug tightly, kiss each other's necks, untie articles of clothing, giggle, flirt, smile, and for the finale, Peeta must pick me up and carry me to the bed. By the end of it, I hardly register the intimacy of anything we're doing. All I can think of is that this will be on every camera in Panem. All I can think of are Gale's eyes watching me.

As promised, Monette works us hard the next day. She wakes us early to drive us to the cape to eat a picnic breakfast and watch the sunrise over the ocean. We kiss on the edge of the cliff and she makes us repeat the shot a few times. We go hiking and she makes Peeta lead and help me even though I'm perfectly capable of handling the terrain on my own. She prods us to stop and admire particular sights and simulate romantic moments. She prompts us for conversation, which I try to sustain but it all sounds unnatural. After yesterday, I'm having a hard time keeping up my spirits. I'm pretty sure Peeta notices because we get an unexpected midday break.

I see Peeta talking privately with Monette for several minutes. He returns. "Come on. I convinced them to leave us alone for a while."

"How'd you do that?"

"I told them we wanted to have sex. I hope you don't mind."

I do, but I'm thankful anyway for the time to just relax and be alone.

Back at the room, I flop down onto the bed, exhausted. I consider what Peeta told the crew. "Do you think they have cameras hidden in here?"

He snorted. "That's why we're not actually having sex," he says just loud enough for any cameras to catch.

Peeta stretches out next to me in bed, clearly as tired as I am. "Well, I hope the Capitol audience is enjoying our honeymoon, because no one seems to care if we are. I swear these people have no souls."

"You know, I wonder if they even know how to love."

Peeta looks at me curiously and props himself on his side. "How do you mean?"

I speak quietly. "Well, I don't get the feeling that these people know our situation, the fact that the reason for this whole TV show, the reason we got married, is to calm a rebellion. I don't think they know that."

He shakes his head. "Neither do I."

"But they're still telling us to act for the camera. 'Kiss her.' 'Tilt your head to the side.' 'Caress her cheek.' 'Look at him like you adore him.' They don't know us. They don't know we're not a real couple." I see the hurt on his face and bite my cheek. "I'm sorry, Peeta. I just meant—"

"I know what you mean. Why ask a man who is in love to act in love? It's as if all they know is the show." Peeta gets up and walks to the bathroom without a glance at me.

I resist the urge to scream into my pillow. I'm as stupid and insensitive as the Capitol citizens. Of course, our marriage is for appearances, but aren't we a real couple? I don't know the answer. How can I criticize the Capitol audience when I don't know myself what love is?

The next day on the beach, we play a game called volleyball and chase and splash each other in the surf. I'm quite uncomfortable standing and running around in so little clothing, but at least it is less intimate than the other day.

Monette cries for us to kiss so we do. "Again!" she shouts. "Katniss, stick your chest out a little more."

I whimper at the suggestion. Peeta squeezes my shoulder reassuringly and kisses my forehead. "Why don't you go play in the water? I'm going to talk to them for a minute." He maintains his composure, but I can tell that he's really angry. I wade out into the water and before long Peeta joins me. "I promised that we'd give them some good footage if they would just lay off, so we need to do some acting."

I nodded. "Thank you." I looked out into the ocean. "I wish we didn't have to act, though. It would be nice to be allowed to just enjoy ourselves for once." I barely have the words out before a wave of water hits me from behind. I glare at Peeta, who is staring at the clouds in phony innocence. I splash him back, and soon we are playing like children, giggling and splashing. With a grin, he grabs me and dunks me under the water. Water goes up my nose and I come up coughing. He laughs and apologizes, pushing the wet hair out of my face and holding me until I get my bearings.

"I'm sorry." He kisses my nose. "Come on. Teach me how to swim some more. You can drown me if it will make you feel better."

After about half an hour, Peeta is much better at treading water. "I'm totally not using this as an excuse, but we should probably do some kissing. I mean I did promise her some good footage."

"Yeah before she starts yelling at us again."

As I kiss him, I realize I'm not being intimate enough, so I wrap my arms around his neck, and he responds by pulling me closer and spreading his palms on my back. When I break away for air, I notice the look on his face and how close our nearly naked bodies are. He swallows. "You really do look beautiful." He pulls away shyly.

That night we laid in bed together like we always do, but this time the memory of our nearly bare bodies pressed together is fresh in my mind.

"Your heart is pounding," Peeta whispers, tucking a stray hair behind my ear.

I bite my lip. "I know. So is yours."

He weaves his fingers through my hair and pulls me to him, kissing me fervidly. We've never kissed in bed before and suddenly I'm afraid and pull away. He pulls me back and kisses me again aggressively.

"Peeta," I plead. His eyes fly open. I am shivering.

"I'm sorry." He is alarmed. "I didn't mean to push you. I thought you wanted to."

Wanted to what? I shake my head. "No, it's—" I struggle to figure out what I'm feeling.

"You're shaking." He pulls away, clearly upset with himself. "Katniss, you're safe with me, ok? I don't want you to ever doubt that."

"I don't." He clearly doesn't believe me and I still can't stop shaking. "Just hold me."

He pulls me in a protective embrace. When I don't stop quaking, he asks, "Are you sure you want me to—"

"Just hold me." I bury my face into his chest, glad that it is clothed.

The next day at the beach, we wade out far enough for the waves and wind to drown out the cameras. Peeta asks me quietly, "Are you sure you're not upset?"

"I'm not upset," I dismiss quickly. I can't quite meet his eye.

"Come on, Katniss. We're married now. We're stuck together. You can at least talk to me."

"I guess I'm just nervous," I hesitate and force it out, "about sex." It occurs to me as I blush that I've never even said the word.

He blinks. "I can understand that. I wasn't trying to push you into sex last night. I just thought you wanted to kiss."

"Yeah, but—" I shrugged. "I don't know. We were in bed. It was just…"

"I get it. It was too intense. But, listen, I'm not expecting sex. I mean, I hope we do one day, but we can wait as long as you want."

This conversation is making me shiver again. "I—you want to?"

He snorts. "Katniss, if you had wanted to, I would have had sex with you a year ago."

I bite my lip. "Really?"

He chuckled at himself. "Really. I've always wanted you, but I want you to want me back." I do, I realize, but I can't admit it yet.

"Just let me know when you want to, no rush of course. I'll wait a whole day, or two even!" I splash him and he grins. "I'm serious, though. I don't want you to feel pressured at all. Okay, so no kissing in bed. Can you I kiss you in the shower?"

I splash him again.

We spend the day doing activities Monette planned for us: boating, swimming, snorkeling, and playing volleyball on the beach. It might have been fun without having to fake romance and scripted conversation. We are exhausted and dirty at the end of the day. Peeta is sweet enough to let me shower first. I emerge clean and fall onto the bed.

Just as I hear the shower running, I need to use the toilet. I decide to just use the lobby restroom, but I run into Monette right outside our room.

"Katniss, we want to do a night shoot. Put these on and come to the beach." She hands me a thin flowy dress and a t-shirt and shorts for Peeta. "Wear it over a swimsuit."

"Oh, um, ok. Peeta's in the shower, but we'll be right out."

I sneak in to the bathroom, hoping he's not paying much attention.

"Katniss?" his voice echoed out from the shower.

"I'm sorry," I pleaded. "I really need to pee, and I couldn't think of a reason to go to the lobby."

"You know, if you want to see me naked, all you need to do is ask." I blush. "Or did you come about that shower kiss?" I roll my eyes and notice a bottle of baby powder on the sink.

"Sure," I say, grabbing the bottle.

"Really?" Peeta pokes his head out of the shower only to be doused with white powder. Coughing, he disappears back into the shower. "Well played."

I smile triumphantly. That will teach him to tease me.

When Peeta emerges from the bathroom, I'm sitting on the bed smiling innocently. "Thank you for that." He looks me over appreciatively. "You look nice. You know, I think it may be time for you to have a shower." He grabs my wrists and pulls me toward the bathroom.

It quickly becomes clear that he's more powerful than me. "No!" I laugh. "Monette wants us to meet her outside!"

"This late?"

I shrug. "She wants a night shoot on the beach."

Peeta thinks it over. "Actually I think a walk on the beach sounds romantic." He holds out his hand and I take it.

Monette had wanted to film us swimming, but she liked Peeta's idea, plus I think she's realized that we are much more natural if left alone. She attaches microphones to our shirts and positions the cameras down the beach from us so that we can enjoy our walk without distraction.

It may not make for the best TV, but Peeta and I are comfortable in silence, so we walk quietly, holding hands and enjoying the peace. After some time, I know that Monette is probably getting impatient, so I reluctantly start a conversation. Knowing that Peeta is much better at this, I ask him a question that I'm genuinely curious about. "Did you really spy on me from the bushes?"

Peeta sighed in annoyance. "No, I was watching you with some other girls. Then you turned around and I panicked and ducked into the bushes. My brothers found me and beat me up."

"What? Did they think you were being a pervert or something?"

He shrugged. "No, just being brothers."

I never heard of such a thing, but I don't have brothers. Still, something that has been in the back of my mind bothers me. "Peeta, are you not close with your family?" I ask without thinking.

He glances at me, stunned, and then his eyes soften sadly. "Katniss, I want to tell you about my family, but I don't want to do it with cameras around."

I nod, remembering how reluctant I was to share my feelings for Prim with the Capitol audience. "Did you really drop a plate of buns?"

"Yep. You can imagine what my mom did to me for that. Broke the plate too."

I remember the welt on his face when he burned the bread for me. "I'm sorry I got you in trouble."

He shakes his head dismissively.

"You got in trouble for me another time too." He smiles at me and my heart flutters. "Did you burn that bread on purpose, Peeta?"

"Of course I did. It was the only way I could give you some food."

"You saved my life, all our lives. I don't think you know what that meant to us."

"I don't think you know what it meant to me."

I kiss him then, hoping to somehow convey my gratefulness and appreciation of him. He caresses my face and we continue walking.

"The sound of the waves is so relaxing," Peeta comments.

"I know. I could just sleep out here."

Peeta stops. "You want to?"

The question surprises me. "Can we?"

"I'm sure it wouldn't be a problem. We lay some blankets, maybe build a fire, sleep under the stars. " He grabs my other hand and intertwines our fingers.

"I don't know."

"Come on. It'll be a great way to remember our romantic weekend in the cave."

I smiled and looked up at the stars. That would be nice. I nodded to Peeta and kissed him. He pulls me in for a deeper kiss that makes my heart thump. It takes me a minute to regain my bearings when we start walking again. "We should recreate the feast that Haymitch sent too."

Peeta grinned. "That sounds great. Only we won't have to ration this time."

We sleep under the stars and have our commemorative picnic in the morning. I had thought that since we allowed them to film us sleeping together all night under the stars, they would take it easy the next day, but Monette hardly lets us go to the bathroom without being filmed. It turns out to be a long, irritating day. I remind myself to try to enjoy this time with Peeta, because almost as soon as we get back it will be time for the Quarter Quell. We'll be mentors this year.

* * *

Thanks to everyone who favorited and is following my story and especially to the people who took the time to write a review. It makes me feel good to see so many people are enjoying it. This one took a lot more effort to write, since the timeline was much more open and I didn't want to disappoint people's expectations. It was a lot more pressure after I read the reviews.

Quick note: story events and Peeta's character are from the book, not the movie (although it is possible I mixed up a few details)

Thanks to my friend Pai-chan for her support and help on this story 3


	3. Chapter 3: The Homecoming

Chapter 3: The Homecoming

When we return to District 12, I'm thankful that there is no crowd or camera crew waiting for us at the train station. Peeta leaves me at the town center to stop by the bakery.

Prim greets me excitedly when I walk in. "We saw the commercial for your honeymoon."

"Oh." I frown. I had hoped that it would only air in the Capitol. "Is it mandatory to view?"

"No, they just announced the times. The kids at school are pretty excited about watching it though."

I wince, thinking of our seduction scene.

I give Prim and my mother the souvenirs I bought for them on the island, a collection of sand and seashells in a bottle, a large shell with a beach scene painted on it, and a figurine of a woman with a fish tail instead of legs.

That night I start to get ready for bed, but my mom stops me. "Pack up some daily essentials and go sleep with Peeta. Tomorrow we will pack the rest of your things."

"What? No, I'm not moving."

"You're married now. You need to start acting like it."

"Well then he can move here." Living alone with Peeta in his house just seems too intimate.

"Then Prim and I will move back to our house in the Seam."

"No, stay here. I'll move in with Peeta." I can't believe my mom just blackmailed me out of my own house. It's almost as ridiculous as blackmailing me into living alone with my husband. I sigh.

I enjoy sleeping with Peeta, but after such a long time away from home, I really just want to sleep in my own bed. Instead, I pack a bag of clothes and my toothbrush and walk over to my new residence. Peeta seems a little surprised to see me, but accepts me happily.

When I wake at sunrise, Peeta's arms are still wrapped around me. I try to gently slip out of his grasp without waking him, but he's already awake.

"Morning."

"Morning. Did I wake you?"

"No, I've been awake. You fell asleep on my arm. I didn't want to disturb you." He stretches and massages his arm.

"You could have gotten me up."

"It's ok. I like watching you sleep, remember? You don't scowl as much."

I snort at him and start put on my wool coat and boots.

"Where are you going? I thought you were moving in today."

"I am, but I'm dying to go hunting. I'll be back around lunch. Besides, it's not like I have much to move. Most of the stuff I own came with the house."

He walks me downstairs. "I was going to cook you breakfast, but I picked up some raisin bread from the bakery yesterday if you want to take it with you." He retrieves the bread for me.

"Thank you." I take it.

"I'll have lunch ready when you get back."

I nod, a hint of a blush creeping on my face. "See you later then." I hurry out the door. I wonder if a normal married couple has a similar morning routine.

As I pass through the Seam, I see workers on their way to the mines. Surely, Gale has heard by now that I've returned from the honeymoon. It will be a few days until Gale has off work in the mines. Until then, we will be painfully aware of each other's presence in the district but never crossing paths. I change into my hunting gear at my old house, then slip under the fence and into the woods.

I feel like I can breathe freely again. I pull my bow and arrows out of the log where I keep them hidden and walk through the woods. I don't even focus on finding game; I just let the woods reclaim and calm me. I easily shoot a few squirrels and doves, and the morning passes too quickly. I sigh when I see the sun overhead and reluctantly exit the woods. I pass by the homes of a few poor families to donate my game. I save the fattest squirrel and dove for Gale's family. I'm irritated that everyone I meet asks about the honeymoon or mentions the TV show. Even Gale's mom Hazelle asks, but she understands me better than most, so I answer her truthfully.

"Invasive."

"I'm sure. Did you enjoy yourself at all? I mean, besides the food."

"It actually would have been good without the cameras. Good hiking, and the water was nice."

"Good company too." Hazelle gives me a wink. I don't know how to respond. She is right of course, I do enjoy Peeta's company, I just expected her to be more disappointed that I didn't marry Gale.

When I get back to Peeta's house, lunch is ready and my mother and Prim are there waiting for me. Peeta invited them over to eat and then help me move. Enlisting my family to help me move was hardly necessary. While my collection of possessions has grown more than I realized since becoming a Victor, it takes little more than half an hour to move all of my things to Peeta's. He offers me exclusive use the bigger bathroom for privacy. I accept appreciatively, and he moves his toiletries to the guest bathroom. I'm annoyed to find that with the skin and hair care products that my styling team obliges me to use, I have a fair amount of toiletries to fill up my new bathroom. The moving process is finished and my mother and sister have gone to my previous home. I stare at Peeta, unsure what comes next. What did I used to do to pass the time at home?

Peeta has some idea. "How do you want to divide up the chores?"

I never thought much about chores. Most of my time has always been spent keeping my family alive, so I left the chores to Prim and my mother. "Um, I'll do the hunting if you do the baking," I offer.

Peeta laughs, which makes me feel better. "So far so good. I hate doing the dishes. Do you mind doing them?"

"Sure, that's fine."

"Anything you don't want to do?"

"No, I'm indifferent."

I let Peeta divvy up the rest of the chores. He will mop if I will sweep. He will take out the trash, so that I can admire his strength, he jokes. He considers cleaning the countertops part of the cooking process, so he will take care of that. We will each clean our own bathrooms and do our own laundry. He offers to do mine, but I don't feel entirely comfortable with him handling my bras and underwear, especially since my stylists have added lacy items to my wardrobe. I will perform most of the lawn care duties since I enjoy my time outside. Peeta will maintain the flower garden since I didn't even notice he had one. I will dust and Peeta will vacuum. I hadn't known so much was involved in keeping a house clean. Since I don't know what else to do with myself, I go outside to cut the grass.

That night, Peeta surprises me when he pulls off his artificial leg, rubbing the stub that is left. He sees my face. "Sorry. Does this bother you?"

"No," I lie. "I've just never seen you take it off before." Peeta uses it so naturally now that I hardly noticed it on the honeymoon. Or at least I refused to acknowledge that I saw it.

"I don't usually. It's very high quality so it doesn't bother me, but every now and then it's nice to take it off and stretch and let my skin breath."

I try not to look at his mutilated flesh and try not to let it bother me, but all I can think is how because of me he no longer has his leg. Peeta notices and reattaches the artificial limb then caresses my shoulder reassuringly.

That night in my dreams, Peacekeepers saw off Peeta's leg while he screams and I watch behind a glass wall.

I spend most of the next day hunting, which leaves me feeling more peaceful and happier than I've felt in weeks. I make the rounds giving food to needy families and trade for supplies at the Hob. Everywhere I go, people ask about the honeymoon. I bring home a few grouses that I figure my mom can cook for dinner.

Peeta is outside as I approach home. He smiles at my bounty. "You brought home dinner! Is that some kind of chicken?"

"It's a grouse."

"I've never eaten grouse. What can I make with it?"

I glance down at the birds and back at Peeta. The idea of Peeta cooking my game hadn't occurred to me. "A stew, maybe. I don't usually cook. There's enough to share with my family, so why don't we get my mother to help?"

Peeta smiles. "Okay. I'll go invite them so you can get started."

I nod and walk into Peeta's house. I feel out of place in his kitchen. I pull the trashcan by the table and start plucking the down feathers of the biggest grouse. I'm halfway done when Peeta returns. "Katniss, what are you doing?"

"I'm plucking the feathers. We can't eat it with feathers on it."

"Well, I know that, but can't you do that outside?"

I stare dumbly at the bird. I suppose I can, but why is it such a big deal? Does he find a dead animal so offensive? I finally understand when Peeta starts sweeping the stray pieces of feathers that floated around the kitchen. "I'm sorry. I always just cleaned it inside. I'll take it outside." I still don't feel like it's a big deal, but the kitchen is Peeta's place so I take my birds outside. There's no table for me to work on, so I just sit on the steps and pluck.

A few minutes have gone by when Peeta comes outside with the trashcan. He frowns at me. "Can you do that in the backyard? There are feathers everywhere now." He hands me the can. I grab the can and my birds and walk to the back, rolling my eyes. Once I survey the backyard, I frown. There is no table or surface or even a chair for me to work on. It would be so much quicker and easier to just skin the birds, but I still cannot bear to waste food, so I sit on the ground and pluck the feathers over the trashcan, which is hardly comfortable. Next time I'll just clean my game at my old house.

Once I'm done plucking the birds and my back hurts, I burn off the remaining feather fluffs and return to the kitchen. I'm about to slice off the limbs when Peeta interrupts, "Katniss, use the cutting board!" He points behind me at several slabs of wood and plastic. I grab a wooden one. "No, that one is for vegetables. Use the white one." I glare at him. I am about to cut him.

Peeta meets my gaze for a second before closing his eyes and taking a slow breath. "Am I being too bossy? I don't mean to make you angry, but you should cut raw meat on a separate surface to avoid—"

"Cross-contamination," I sigh and nod.

He smiles with a slight effort. "Why don't I help?" I show him how to cut up and gut the bird. He makes a face at the innards but attends interestedly while I explain which parts are good to eat. My mother and sister arrive. I leave my mother to manage the kitchen and sit with Prim in the living room.

"Are you gonna watch your honeymoon? The first episode is tonight."

I frown. "I wasn't planning on it."

"I want to watch it." She seems so excited about it that I don't have the resolve to tell her no, so I figure I'll let my mother do it. I wait for Prim to bring it up again during dinner.

"I'm not sure if she should watch it, Mother. They made us pretend we were about to…" I trail off in hopes that she will understand.

"We saw the commercials," my mother informs me. "Some of it did look a lot more improper than I would have liked for them to do with my daughter." Her mouth is in a thin, tight line.

"But everyone knows all that stuff was just for the cameras. The rest of it looked fun," Prim protests.

Peeta speaks up somewhat unhappily, "It probably would be good to watch it, if only to know what everyone else will see."

I know Peeta is right, but I don't want to watch it, much less think about everyone in District 12 watching it. I close my eyes and wish I could prevent all the TVs from airing the program. I wonder if the Mayor has the power to stop broadcasts. He would probably get in trouble for doing that kind of thing anyway.

I sit away from Peeta on the couch. I don't want to be next to him when our sex scene plays. I'm glad when my mother sits next to me. As hard as it is to accept her help, I need maternal support right now. I feel so much like a child.

I spend the majority of the next day hiding in humiliation. My family and Peeta assured me that it was not that bad, that I looked good, and that the bedroom scene was more flirtatious than racy. But all I can see are images of me running around nearly naked, my body both ugly and skinny yet somehow unnervingly sexual. All I can think of are all the people who saw Peeta's hands running over my body, saw him carry me to the bed, and assumed that sex naturally followed. I consider going hunting to clear my head, but I can't get to the fence without going through town, and what would I do with all that game I catch if I'm avoiding people?

Peeta frequently attempts to cheer me up and encourages me to busy myself, which quickly begins to irritate me. I'm still mad at him for letting the cameras catch him asking if we can have a break to have sex, even though he swears he didn't know. He even suggests I go into town and face people to get it over with.

"You go face people," I snarl. "And while you're at it, tell them that it was all fake."

He leaves me finally. I can tell I hurt his feelings, but I'm too bitter to care.

Finally Sunday arrives. I wake at dawn and try to move quietly to not wake Peeta, but he wakes as soon as I leave the bed. "You're such a light sleeper," I comment apologetically.

"You're going meet Gale?" He looks uncomfortable.

"Yes." I don't know what else to say. We stare at each other awkwardly for a moment before I turn and leave.

I've been apprehensive about meeting with Gale all week, but now because of the broadcast I'm dreading it. I want to avoid him for a few more days, but the Reaping is this week and I won't have the chance to see him for another month if I don't go now. I find signs of Gale at our meeting place, but he didn't wait for me there. I search for him where I know he likes to set snares. I find him pulling a rabbit out of a trap I set yesterday.

He doesn't even look up. "Hello, Mrs. Mellark." I grimace, unable to respond. "How was the honeymoon?"

I shrug, uncomfortable. "The place was really nice. It was really annoying having a camera crew stalk us all week."

"I suppose that's the case when you become a big star. The attention gets annoying. It seems like you are enjoying your new job though."

I narrow my eyes. "What the hell are you talking about? You know I hate this."

"You and your new husband seem pretty happy," he replies flatly.

"I have to appear happy! I have to do whatever I can to convince the districts that I'm in love with Peeta!"

"Right, which is why you married him." Gale's face clearly shows that he doesn't believe my justification.

"You think I wanted any of this? You think I wanted to be forced to get married and film a TV show about my honeymoon?"

"I can see how that would stifle the romance, but that really didn't seem to stop you." He continues, his voice getting nastier, "I would think twice about a career in porn though. It's bad enough being the Capitol's whore."

I drop my bow and my game and run the entire way back to my house. I'm out of breath and sobbing but I don't stop until I throw myself onto Peeta's bed.

On Peeta's bedside table is his sketchbook, opened to a freshly drawn image of me. My hair is down and unruly and my face is lined with an orange glow. He must have drawn me from memory as soon as I left him this morning. I press the drawing to my chest and curl up on our bed, sobbing again.

Peeta is at my side instantly. "What happened?" he prods gently.

"I'm sorry," I wail. I feel him stiffen and draw away. I glance at him. He's very pale. I sit up. "What?"

"Why are you sorry?" He says unsteadily.

I look at the lovely drawing in my lap and more tears brim over. "For leaving you this morning."

"Is that all?" He looks relieved.

"Well, no, but… what did you think I was going to say?"

He gives a grunt. "Something much worse."

My eyes darken. "You thought I slept with him, didn't you?"

"I was terrified you did."

"Right, because I do that. That's who I am. I'll just sleep with whoever I want and don't care who it hurts."

"I didn't say that."

"Well you meant it!" I shout at him. "That's really what you guys think of me?"

His eyes narrow. "You ran in crying. Why are you really so upset?"

I crumble back into a sobbing, fetal mess. Peeta crawls into bed and embraces me. "What happened?"

I sob for a few minutes before I can get it out. "He called me a whore."

"A whore?" Peeta's tone is one I've never heard before. "Because you married me?"

"The Capitol's whore," I clarify.

Peeta is silent for a while. His voice is his normal, gentle one when he speaks again. "You know he just said that because he's hurting."

"I know." I sniff. "But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt."

He holds me for a long time in silence. I am drifting off when he whispers, "Do you want anything? I can cook you something. You haven't eaten."

"Cheese buns," I say immediately. He starts to leave. "And while it's baking, can you come up here and draw me?"

He considers me for a moment, then answers, "Of course."

I doze off and when I wake up Peeta is sitting in front of me sketching. When he sees I'm awake, he leans over and strokes my cheek. "Hey."

I smile. "Hey. Can I see?"

"It's just an outline. I haven't added much detail yet." He shows me. It's already a beautiful picture.

"Keep drawing." I watch him while he works. I often think that Peeta has a peaceful world hidden inside him. I wish I could crawl inside that place and sleep there forever.

He puts down his sketchbook. "I'm close enough to being done if you want to move. I need to take out the cheese buns."

I stretch and decide to get up. I'm walking down the stairs when I hear the doorbell and Peeta opening the door. I hear Gale's terse voice say, "Peeta" right before I hear the impact of flesh followed by a clatter.

I sprint to the door to find Peeta standing with his fists clenched at the top of the steps. Gale is on his back at the foot of the steps, clutching his cheek.

"If you ever talk to her like that again I'll do a lot worse." Peeta's voice has assumed that frightening intensity again.

I scurry between them. "Peeta! Stop!"

Gale holds out his hand. "It's fine, Katniss. He's right. I deserve it."

Peeta considers Gale for a moment, his jaw clenched. He then disappears into the kitchen, apparently having decided that Gale's remorse is enough to spare him from further beating.

Gale follows me into the study. I close the door and wait for him to speak.

"Look, I don't know—I shouldn't have said that. I'm not angry at you. Well, I am, but I do understand that it's not really your fault. I just don't know how to deal with this. I love you, and a year ago I thought we were going to be together, and then you get thrown together with him and now you're married to him. I just—Is it really over between us? You got married and there's no chance we'll be together anymore? Did all of this really happen?"

I don't answer him. I'm not even sure myself.

He snorts, not even looking at me. "I can't stand that I'm the one making you cry and he's the one comforting you." Finally he looks at me with his handsome, sarcastic smile. "Do me a favor and tell him to upset you, so you can come crying to me, and I can be the good guy for a change."

I smile weakly. "I'll tell him."

He stands quietly for a while, taking in the sight of me. "There's really no chance for us?" he asks in earnest.

Immediately I'm shaking and crying again. I want to tell him yes. I want to tell him that I'll leave this coerced existence with Peeta and live with him forever in the woods like we always have. I'm searching my mind for this life I could have with him, but I already know that it's gone. "I don't think it's possible."

He rushes to me and kisses me, taking my face in his hand. His soft lips press against mine aggressively and I breathe in the smell of the woods. I'm ravenous for his lips, his love, and the future with him that is now lost to us. I wrap my arms around his neck and press into him, desperate to forget that this cannot last, desperate to keep it.

He pulls away so suddenly that I almost start crying again.

"Look, if it's over, I need to get over you. I need to not see you for a while."

I bite my lip and nod, tearing up again.

"I'm going to start taking Rory into the woods on Sundays. I'd appreciate it if you don't come, for a while anyway. You're going to be going to the Capitol soon anyway. I'll do my best to get over you, and maybe we can be friends after a while. I miss my best friend."

"Me too." I haven't had him for a year.

He grabs the doorknob to leave, then stops and looks back at me. "You know what I think about all the time? If I had volunteered to take Peeta's place, then you might be marrying me."

I consider the scenario. "No, I wouldn't. You never would have played their games or catered to the cameras, and you would have died in the arena protecting me." We smile at each other, knowing that it's true. "Even if we had managed the star-crossed-lovers routine, the second Seneca Crane announced that we could only have one winner, you would have slit your throat and left me alone to take care of both our families."

He chuckles. "Yeah, that sounds right. I guess I'll just try to remember that if he didn't love you, you might not have come home at all. I'll see you." He leaves.

I sit in the plush armchair and cry for a good hour and a half before leaving the study. The cheese buns that Peeta left out for me are cold now. I find Peeta painting in his art room. He doesn't look up so I leave him and go to the living room to eat my cold cheese buns alone.

Peeta doesn't speak to me or even emerge from his art room the rest of the day. He sleeps in the guest bedroom and I go to bed alone to cry myself to sleep. I wake up shrieking and he is there. He holds me for the rest of the night.

I wake up with the sunrise and, for once, I get to watch him sleep.

"You dreamed of me last night." He opens his eyes.

"What?"

"You dreamed of me, not Gale."

"Really?" I search my memory. "I had a couple dreams with him there."

"Yes, but you spent most of the night screaming for me."

"I guess I knew that you would come," I smile sadly at him, "even though I hurt you."

"You kissed him didn't you?"

My eyes drop as it hit me that I cheated on my husband.

He interprets my silence as affirmative. "I can't pretend that doesn't hurt me, Katniss. Please don't kiss him again."

"I won't," I whisper and plant a soft kiss on Peeta's mouth.


	4. Chapter 4: The Quarter Quell

I'm SOOO sorry it took so long to get this chapter out. I had a lot of family drama _ . Plus, I decided to go back to school for biology/chemistry, so of course that has been the priority. This chapter was really hard for me to finish. I really didn't intend to expand this story so much, but I'm such a stickler for detail that it just grew and grew, and certain parts just didn't flow right away.

Anyway, thanks for sticking it out and continuing to read! It means a lot to me that you like my story.

\- Berry

* * *

Chapter 4: The Quarter Quell

On the same night that the Capitol citizens casted their final votes on my pearly wedding dress, the President announced that for the 75th anniversary of the rebellion, "as a reminder that repeating a rebellion will only lead to more bloodshed, there will be two hunger games this year." The victor of the first games will serve again as a tribute for his or her district to compete in the second set of games.

As Reaping Day nears, Haymitch informs us that I will be mentoring with him but not Peeta.

"We don't all mentor?" Peeta asks.

Haymitch shakes his head. "Two tributes, two mentors: that's the rule. Since the two of you won last year, you will both be required to attend the game events and interviews, but for the actual mentorship and sponsor parties, you will have to sit out."

"Why don't you sit this one out? I'm sure you're ready for a break," Peeta suggested.

"You don't know the circus you are walking into. Those kids will probably not make it, but they will stand a better chance with at least one mentor who knows the ropes. Since she has more survival skills, she will come with me for the first one, and I will train her to be a mentor. You and I can mentor for Quarter Quell part two, and I'll train you. And _next year_, if you two don't mind, I'm going to take a break." He lifted his drink to us with a smirk and an eyebrow cocked.

Peeta and I look at each other. Haymitch is right. This is the best course of action for the tributes. As hard as it will be for me to face this without Peeta's support, we cannot put our own comfort over the welfare of two children who are probably going to die.

"I'll still be there," Peeta offers.

I nod. "I'll be alright. Everyone knows how comforting Haymitch is to me."

Haymitch snorts. 

The night before the Reaping, Peeta and my mother cook a special dinner. We even invite Haymitch, although he declines. After dinner, we all sit in the living room listening to music and playing games late into the night. My mom goes home before midnight, but we children enjoy our peaceful and tender time together as long as we can. I delay saying goodnight until I can barely keep my eyes open. "I need to get to sleep. It's gonna be a long day tomorrow."

Peeta stretches. "Me too, but I need to clean the kitchen. It won't be fun to deal with sticky pans tomorrow morning, and it's not like I can leave them while we go off to the Capitol."

"I'll help you," I offer dutifully. I give Prim a kiss. "Goodnight, little duck."

She hugs me tightly. "You go to bed. I'll help Peeta clean the kitchen. You have to get up much earlier than any of us."

I'm so tired that I don't argue. I sluggishly make my way up the stairs but pause when I hear Peeta's voice from the kitchen. "Let's hope you don't get picked two years in a row," he jokes.

Prim groans. "That would be my luck. And I have twice the chance I had last year, although the odds are still technically in my favor."

"You know, Prim, if Katniss hadn't been able to take your place in the games, I would have protected you for her sake."

I feel a warmth take over my entire body at Peeta's devotion. I walk up the stairs and crawl into bed, wondering at the tingly feeling as I drift off to sleep. But then a realization hits me like a flood of ice water, and the warm tingle is swept from my skin. If Prim is indeed picked this year, neither one of us will be able to protect her.

The Reaping is at 2:00, but my day starts much earlier than that. Since we are the previous year's Victors and so popular, we will be getting lots of camera attention, so we still have to tolerate the long beautification process with our prep teams. As last year's Victors, Peeta and I have many ceremonial duties during the Games, including wearing the crown at all times. President Snow broke our crown into two halves, so my team has to fix the crown to my hair to get it to stay. I wonder how Peeta's prep team will get his to stay in his short hair. The whole process and my prep team's shallow gossip are much harder to tolerate knowing that I won't see Cinna until we reach the Capitol. Cinna and Portia will continue to act as stylists for us, but most of their energy will be focused on 12's tributes.

Just as I am ready and go downstairs, the mayor's aide arrives with Peeta to tell us to be at the square for 1:00. Peeta looks at my crown and smiles his handsome smile. He extends his hand. "Shall we, my queen?"

I chuckle. "We need to make sure Haymitch is up," I answer, remembering how last year Haymitch arrived late and drunk, embarrassing our district.

We manage to rouse, clean, and drag Haymitch to the square by 1:30, and he's already quite drunk, but not as much as last year. Effie greets us cheerfully, comments on our tardiness, and directs us to sit onstage with her and Mayor Undersee.

For the first time ever, 12 has three living Victors. When the mayor reads our names, we stand and wave, then Peeta and I approach the microphone for our speech, which is traditional for the previous year's victor. I can barely read Effie's ridiculous prose without grimacing, but I know that they will air our entire speech throughout the entire country, so I try to smile as if I actually believe that the Capitol is wonderful and giving.

Then Effie is at the podium. "Ladies first!" she chirps. I watch Effie swirl her fingers over the slips of paper in the glass bowl, as if she is playing a game, choosing who is going to die. Two of those slips have Prim's name on them. Prim only has two chances in several thousand to be picked, but after last year, I know better than to believe in chance. The seconds tick by at a painful pace and Effie picks up a slip, walks to the podium, and opens the piece of paper. I wait for the name.

"Lira Hoager."

I breathe a sigh a relief, feeling slightly guilty to be glad to hear someone else's name. The name is familiar, but I can't identify her until I see the tall, blond (clearly a merchant's daughter), pale girl shakily making her way toward the stage. I recognize her because she wins a lot of athletic competitions. She's a star player in basketball and baseball. She's a year older than Peeta and I, 18; this would have been her last year in the Reaping pool. Haymitch, Peeta, and I have to put on bright smiles and shake hands with Lira and offer her congratulations, as if being picked is a great honor.

The boy chosen is a 13-year-old Seam boy, Prim's classmate, Paten Doories. I realize that I know his mother. Her husband's mining income is not enough to support four kids, so she makes and sells preserves, dried fruit, and jerky. I often supplied her with fresh plants or meat in exchange for a portion of the product. I'm pretty sure my mom has treated Paten for illness before. They didn't have the money to pay, so his mother paid by preserving my game for free over the course of several months.

When I congratulate Paten, his hands are shaking. Lira is still pale. My heart squeezes. I desperately remind myself not to feel anything for these children who will almost certainly die.

The mayor reads the Treaty of Treason, the anthem plays, and the children go into the Justice Building, where they will have an hour to say goodbye to everyone they love. After the cameras are off, I turn to Peeta for a hug. He holds me so tightly that I suspect he needed one as well. One year ago, we said goodbye to our own families, certain that we were going off to die. We separate to say a less final goodbye to our families. I give a kiss to Prim and I'm surprised to see Gale approaching me. My mom and Prim see him and each give me a final hug before leaving us.

"Hey." Gale wrinkles his eyebrows at my crown. I know he thinks I look silly.

"Hey, I thought we weren't speaking."

He shrugs. "I figure I can stop being a baby long enough to tell you goodbye and wish you luck. I can tell this is really hard on you."

I nod, pushing my emotions down.

"I know Peeta will be there to support you, but I want you to know that even though I can't be there, I'm supporting you too. I'll always be here for you. I'd be 'there' for you, but they won't let me leave 12."

I chuckle at him. "Thank you, Gale. That really means a lot." After we hug, I sneak a glance to see if Peeta was watching. He was.

Effie ushers us to the train, where we settle in to our room and wait for the tributes to arrive. When they arrive, Effie is talking about how lucky they are to have the opportunity to enjoy the decadence of the train. She said the same insensitive garbage to us last year, but somehow it seems even more disgusting to hear it said to someone else. Lira greets Peeta despondently—apparently, they know each other—but Paten avoids everyone. I wonder if he remembers meeting me.

It's quite obvious that both of the tributes have been crying. I remember comparing Peeta's tears to my own stoic expression. It occurs to me then that many of the tributes picked don't even consider how they will be viewed by potential sponsors. I'm always concerned with how others see me. Even before I volunteered for the Games, I kept a stoic face. Do I worry too much about what others think of me? I put aside this thought to mull over later.

The tributes disappear into their rooms until dinnertime. When they see the decadent feast laid out across several tables, they gape in astonishment, especially Paten, whom I know has never had a full stomach in his whole life. "Take your time with the food. It's so rich that you will get sick if you're not careful," I tell them. It is no surprise to me that Paten mostly eats with his hands. I smirk at Effie's frown.

Haymitch asks the tributes about themselves and their talents. Lira talks about her athletic ability, and Peeta and I offer additional suggestions of her ability. Paten claims he has no talent. He has already realized that while Lira might have some chance, he might as well already be dead. I don't have the heart to lie to him and tell him otherwise. Peeta is more optimistic, however, and suggests techniques like camouflage and foraging. I show them my plant book and an easy snare. They take turns practicing knots and studying the plant book. Lira is attentive and driven to learn, but Paten pushes the book away and ties his knots half-heartedly.

We arrive shortly after breakfast the next day, the tributes are whisked away to the Remake Center, and the rest of us begin the tiresome rounds of sponsor meetings and parties. Opening ceremonies take place that evening and Peeta and I serve a special role, so Cinna designed for us beautiful black costumes that glow like embers. We have to light a chalice with the District 12 torch to signify the end of our reign as Victors, and ring a gong to welcome the new tributes. The chariots roll in, and again 12's Victors outshine them all. Lira and Paten's eyes are dusted jet black, and they are wrapped in glittering flame-like tendrils that float behind them and release smoke. They look dangerous.

I finally get to see Cinna in the stables after the ceremony. I hug him and don't want to let go. Our whole team congregates to congratulate Lira and Paten on their performance. When we reach our rooms on the 12th floor of the Tribute Tower, Cinna hands me a sketchbook. "Study that," he tells me.

"What is this?" I open the book to see sketches of clothing designs.

"It's for your interviews."

I nod and peruse the detailed notes Cinna wrote about my hobby until Effie calls everyone to dinner.

At the dinner table we strategize and advise the tributes on how to approach their training. We tells Lira to try out the throwing weapons without revealing how good she is. I tell Paten to visit each station briefly and feel out which skills he wants to develop. Paten just nods at me despondently.

Lira asks to practice knots again and Paten joins her unenthusiastically. After a while though, he seems to appreciate the challenge and focuses on learning the knots. However, I suspect that the activity merely provides an interesting distraction from the situation rather than any sort of hope that these techniques will help him survive.

"I can actually catch a rabbit with this?" he asks.

I nod. "That's a snare I use a lot."

"That would be cool." The way he stares at the knot makes me think that he might have enjoyed learning to hunt back in 12. I'll never get to take him into the woods with me, but maybe he will survive long enough in the arena to hunt for himself.

Since the Game Makers and tributes are busy during the three days of training, the cameras focus on the Victors, especially the winners from the previous year. For our big interview, Cinna dresses me in an outfit that highlights what little sex appeal I have: a slinky red dress with a slit all the way up my leg. The chest is padded again and lifts my breasts to create cleavage. I have to wear a girdle to squeeze in my waist and add curve to my hips. Gold thread sewn along the trim creates subtle flames. I feel alien. This dress belongs on someone else.

Peeta's outfit captures his natural sex appeal. His muscular body is apparent through the thin fabric of his flowy button down shirt. His shirt is red with the same golden flames. He blushes when he sees me. "Wow."

The interview with Caesar starts with video clips of favorite moments from last year's games. When the berries came up I shook my head in disbelief, like Cinna had coached me, stating that I couldn't believe myself and how out of my mind I had acted. Caesar presents to us a bulky, lacy photo album filled with pictures from our wedding. We look through the photos and reminisce happily. I fumble on questions about our honeymoon and our married life while Peeta lies smoothly about our wedded bliss. Then Caesar asks, "Are there kids in your future?"

I try not to react with the horror that I feel. I bite my lip and look at the ground, hoping that it just looks shy. I hear Peeta answer with a slight chuckle, "We haven't talked about it yet."

I'm sure Caesar senses that this is not a good topic for me, because instead of pressing the issue he moves on. "So, what's it like being a victor in Twelve?"

I shrug. "It's different. We don't have many victors, so it's kinda like no one knows what to do with us. Since my mom is a healer, I spend most of my time doing errands for her and bringing food to families that need it."

"I help out at the bakery still. No one knows what to do with me either so I mostly stay home and paint."

I had forgotten about my cover hobby. "Right, in my free time at home, I'm still designing clothes." I get out Cinna's notebook and talk about the designs.

"Now, Katniss, ever since the Victory Tour, people have been dying to wear the Girl on Fire's designs. Would you be willing to sell your designs?"

"Sure," I say, thinking that it would be a good way to pull extra money for food into the district since 12 will no longer receive gifts for our victory.

"Peeta, would you sell your paintings?"

Peeta shrugs. "If people want pictures of Katniss. She's usually what I paint."

I blush and Caesar grins. "So she's your inspiration?"

Peeta thinks for a few seconds. "I see her every day, and I just want to capture every moment. She's… just so beautiful to me." His voice was honest, no acting no lying. I kiss him for the cameras, but I feel a tingle in my spine.

After our interview, Haymitch brings us to a Victor party, which is held every year. Being a Victor must make people crazy, or perhaps a person must already be crazy to win the Games. Haymitch's friend Chaff kisses me aggressively. Finnick Odair, who is known for his sex appeal and being a playboy, offers me a drink and seductively asks if I have any secrets for him. The morphling-addicted Victors paint food on their arms, eat flowers, and sway with their foreheads pressed to the wall. Some of the more aggressive victors rough house. Quite a few are getting very drunk, including Haymitch. Johanna Mason flirts shamelessly with Peeta right in front of me. I glare at Peeta, but he just laughs it off and says that they are messing with us. I ask Haymitch if it's really necessary for us to be at this party, and he responds that it's important for us to be social and attend these events.

When Paten returns from training, he tells me, "I recognized some of the plants. Can I borrow your plant book to study?"

"Sure." I give it to him, planting a smile on my face. I should feel glad that he's finally making an effort, but I'm not and I can't quite figure out why.

We find out from Lira that she felt somewhat comfortable throwing a spear, but she could not get the axe to stick. We tell her to practice the spear just enough to develop proficiency without revealing her full ability and to keep practicing with the axe. It may end up being the only weapon she can get.

Over the next few days, we determine that Lira easily handles most overhand throwing weapons, has excellent hand-eye coordination and good aim and range, and is a very fast runner. Paten learns the survival plants and snares quickly. While he is not a fast runner, he is good at hiding. Being lightweight, he also can climb trees, but not as well as I can. He starts asking more about survival strategies and plans for the arena.

"So I'll run and hide in the woods and look for food."

I nod. "Water first. You can go a few days without food, not water. One thing we Seam kids have on the others is that we know how to be hungry."

"Yep, and as long as I can find water and a little food, I can live." He flips through my plant book, identifying plants with some pride. "See?" he looks at me with a smile.

I return his smile weakly and quickly retreat to my room. Peeta senses that something is troubling me and follows me, wrapping his arms around me. "Talk to me."

"He has no chance, Peeta."

"I know."

"Every day, he's closer to his death, and I—" I choke on the panic that rises in my throat. "There's nothing I can do about it!" All at once, I am sobbing. Peeta holds me quietly until I run out of energy. I feel so hopeless and drained that I can hardly stand. Peeta guides me into bed and holds me tight. I thrash and wake crying all night, and he is there holding me tighter.

Finally the day of evaluations comes. We tell Lira to strut her stuff, show how far and how accurately she can throw, how fast she can run, how athletic she is. Paten tells us that he will demonstrate his knowledge of plants and snares and show that he can hide and climb. We can't tell him anything better.

I'm nervous all day waiting for them to come back. Paten gets back first and just shrugged. Lira is anxious because she missed the target slightly and didn't throw as far as she'd hoped. We're all anxious until they announce the evaluations. Lira gets an 8 and we congratulate her. Peeta reminds her that was his score. Paten gets a 5. The others tell him that is an average score. He seems satisfied.

The next day Haymitch and I coach Lira and Paten on interview strategies. Lira is pretty and popular at home, so she has an easygoing and confident attitude about herself. We tell her to act like the Games are no big deal. It's just another competition, and she always wins. Paten is funny and sassy. I'm worried that he will come off as being too cute. People will find him likeable, but a realistic contender in the Games? Absolutely not. Lira's interview goes fine, but she doesn't stick out among the tributes. Paten chokes under the pressure of being on live tv. He's so nervous, he just looks scared. He gains confidence after making the audience laugh a little, but it is too late to make a good impression.

Haymitch and I give the children some final advice before sending them off to bed and seeing them in person for the last time. Look around and make a plan before the timer runs out. Look for supplies that they can reach before the other tributes pick up weapons. Make an exit strategy and run, run, run.

I add something at the end. "My final piece of advice to you two, something which I should have been told," I shoot a glare at Haymitch and return my gaze to the children. "Don't do anything remotely rebellious. Don't do anything that will make the Capitol look foolish. If you are lucky enough to survive, they will punish you for it, and, likely, everyone you love as well." I suddenly realize that I am lucky in that aspect. They could have easily taken Prim, Gale, or Peeta from me. Instead, they only made me marry Peeta. There are worse fates. I glance at Haymitch.

I hardly sleep that night. The few times I drift off, I wake screaming. I clutch Peeta crying. He strokes my hair soothingly. By the time morning arrives, I'm so tense that I'm in pain. The sun rises and we know that my prep team will be here soon. I realize with unending dread that this is my new life, sending children off to their deaths every year.

My prep team arrives and dresses me in the latest Capitol fashion, a very short dress made of black feathers, one of Cinna's designs of course. They attach a fascinator to my head, a 3-dimensional version of my mockingjay pin. They moan over my sleep-deprived skin, but they put so much makeup on me that I hardly see how anyone would notice. Even so, my makeup is minimalist by Capitol standards. They call the style Chiaroscuro, and it makes me look like I'm under bright lights in a pitch black room.

They finally leave me and Effie calls me to go with her. I look to Peeta wearily.

"I wish I could tell you it'll all be okay," he says. "All I can say is I'll be here at the end of the day." He kisses my forehead and pulls me into a tight hug. I don't want to let go, but I do and join Effie and Haymitch.

Effie takes us to a sponsor party, where a buffet table is set up with decadent breakfast foods. There were incomprehensible numbers of varieties of pastries, breads, fruits, nuts, spreads, pancakes, eggs, and meats. Slowly the wealthy Capitol citizens trickle in, looking still asleep and drinking copious amounts of coffee.

Haymitch tells me that the first part of the party is simply socializing with the potential sponsors and building relationships. There is no need to waste rhetoric selling our tributes this early in the Game. We can't help them until they are a safe distance from the Cornucopia. For now we simply sell ourselves, although it's hard to play friendly with these people with all the inconsiderate things they say.

"We couldn't believe someone from District 12 won last year!"

"Isn't it great that you get to enjoy these parties every year?"

"The tributes from District 12 are cleaning up so well nowadays."

"Lira is so beautiful for a girl from 12!"

It's amazing to me that these people believe they are paying complements.

When the monitors turn on, the time for talking is over. The sponsors eagerly await the arrival of the Tributes. Claudius Templesmith's voice welcomes the viewing audience and introduces the 75th Hunger Games, Part 1. We get the first look at the arena, a swamp. The Cornucopia and the tribute stands are situated in one of the few areas of solid ground. The announcers discuss that this year's arenas are not built from scratch, since they had to build two. Instead, the Game Makers modified a site in the coastal wilderness between districts 4 and 11. Ceasar and Claudius speculate for a few minutes that the arena must be hot and humid and is probably populated with fish, crustaceans, snakes, alligators, and hordes of mosquitoes. Claudius whispers dramatically that it's almost time, then the elevators rise and the tributes appear.

My heart is pounding as the clock counts down. I don't even realize that it has reached zero until the tributes are running everywhere. All eyes are glued to the screens to catch every moment of the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. Lira manages to grab a backpack, knock over another tribute who is slow to draw his weapon, and run from the Cornucopia fairly easily. Paten runs for a small bag but another tribute tries to tug it from his hands. While they are fighting over the bag, another tribute runs over with a weapon. Two quick swipes and both Paten and the other boy collapse. The camera quickly moves on to more exciting action.

It takes several minutes for me to register that Paten has not gotten up, is not moving, and is probably dead. I numbly wait for the initial fighting at the cornucopia to dwindle down. After a few hours, several more tributes are dead, the careers have assumed control of the Cornucopia supplies, and the rest have scattered around the arena. Brief shots of Lira show us that she is still alive, keeping herself moving like we told her, although sloshing through water slows her pace. The cannons fire fifteen times, and then they show us the photos of the dead children. The last picture they show is District 12's Paten Doories.

I double over and start to sob loudly. Haymitch grabs me roughly and pulls me to a private corner. "Pull yourself together," he hisses. "You still have one tribute to keep alive. They're not only looking at her; they're looking at you."

Deep in my conscious, I know he is right, but I'm too hysterical to listen. "It's my fault! I told him," I choke out a sob, "to try to get supplies. I should have told him to run!"

He pulls my face to his shoulder. I sob into his shirt and he pets my hair. "It was good advice, Katniss. He was never gonna make it anyway, and he could have starved to death slowly if he had just run away with nothing."

Haymitch leaves me to pull myself together. He has to keep up the appearance that our team is still functioning. I manage to straighten my face and rejoin the sponsor party. I try to believe what Haymitch said, I try to focus on keeping Lira alive, but all I can think about was that I got Paten killed.

Once the action in the arena is slow, the TVs recap the Cornucopia bloodbath. I see Paten die again, but this time the camera shows a close-up of his face as he is gasping for air and blood is spouting from the slice on his neck. Soon after, a woman with an earpiece approaches me. The top half of her face is dyed neon pink. "Mrs. Mellark, please come with me."

The use of my married name muddles my mind even more. "What for?"

"Your interview with Caesar," Haymitch reminds me. I nod. That's right, it's my first lost tribute; they have to capitalize on my pain, soak up all the drama that they can out of this kid's death.

Peeta is already waiting for me in the interview room with Caesar. I sit next to him and grip his hand, trying to hold myself together. He pulls me closer to him.

Caesar begins promptly. "Katniss, you just lost your first tribute, and they say the first is the hardest. Can you tell us about young Paten?"

_Don't say anything rebellious_, I remind myself. "I—He was in the same class as my sister Prim. His family doesn't live far from where we used to live in the Seam. My mom once treated him for a bronchial infection. I know his mother. And now I have to go home and face her." My voice cracks and Peeta squeezes my hand.

"What was your strategy for Paten in the arena?"

"We focused on survival skills rather than combat skills: finding shelter, food, water, staying warm, and staying hidden. I told him to try to get a supply bag at the Cornucopia, but I should have just told him to run." I let out a controlled breath, trying to prevent the tears from emerging.

"You still have one tribute left, the lllovely Lllira. I wonder if she is as valuable as her name." He paused to chuckle. "What is your strategy for her?"

I silently thanked Caesar for his embellishments, always trying to help me out even though I'm such a terrible interviewee. I find my voice. "She's fast and athletic. She's smart too. We did advise her on survival, but she has a good arm and good aim so in training she focused more on throwing weapons."

"Peeta, what do you think?"

"I like Lira too. Of course, I did have a crush on her briefly."

I clamp my mouth shut, trying not to reveal the jealousy that just welled up inside me. It's no use though. Peeta and Caesar are already laughing at me.

"Don't worry, baby. I mean, she _is_ much prettier, but you know I only have eyes for you."

I glare at him. I recognize that he was trying to get her sponsors, but he was doing it at my expense.

Peeta tries to talk to me and comfort me after the interview, and it takes all my self-control to kiss him on the cheek and tell him I have to return to Haymitch. My anger at him is so intense that I can't even question it. I don't want to return to the party, but I'm glad for an excuse to get away from Peeta.

Fortunately, Haymitch sends me away. "I'll need to sleep at some point and you will have to watch Lira, so go rest now. You need it."

I can't even object. I go straight to bed, cry for a minute, and pass out.

A sudden bright light wakes me. I squint at Peeta who quickly flicks the light switch off.

"I'm sorry. I thought you were at the sponsor party."

I immediately remember how he made fun of me, enthusing over Lira's beauty. "Thanks for waking me up," I grumble nastily. "What time is it?"

"Almost seven." He sits on the bed next to me. "I wish I'd known you were here. I was worried about you."

"I don't need you to worry about me," I snap.

He looks surprised and I push away the feeling of guilt that suddenly swells up. He begins soothingly, "Look, I know you're upset—"

"Will you just let me sleep?" I growl.

He frowns. "Sure."

I turn away from him and bury my face in my pillow, feeling like a scream might tear my throat open at any moment. When I feel Peeta's arms wrap around me, I whip around and yell at him, "Leave me alone!"

"Katniss," Peeta says in a controlled voice. "It's not your fault Paten died."

"I know that!"

"Do you?"

I'm about to scream at him when I start crying instead. I collapse and Peeta gathers up my pieces and cradles me close to his body. I scream and sob into his shirt until I'm once again drained of all energy. He continues to caress me while I whimper.

"You still mad about the interview? I didn't really mean anything by it."

It takes a moment for me to muster the energy to speak. "It's just embarrassing for you and Caesar to be laughing at me on live television."

"I'm sorry. I just knew the audience would like it, and that it would make Lira more popular."

"I know, but you made me look like a fool."

"I promise no one thinks you're a fool. They think it's cute that I tease you and you get jealous. I'm really sorry. I knew you wouldn't like that, but I was just trying to help get some sponsors for Lira."

I decide to accept his apology. Maybe I'm taking this too seriously. "Do I worry too much what others think of me?"

He shifts his head to look at me. "What do you mean?"

I explain my observations about the crying tributes and my need to maintain a stoic expression and the appearance that no one can hurt me.

"Is that what it is? You never just let yourself feel what you feel. Like you always have to keep a tack on your emotions. It's incredibly frustrating to me."

"Really? I'm sorry. The only person I've ever been able to just be myself with is Gale." I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. Peeta has a slight frown on his face but he just shakes his head. I bite my lip. "I… don't usually know what I feel."

"I guess that's what happens when you hide your emotions all the time."

"I'll try… I'm trying to get better."

"I guess you still really can't, since you're being watched now more than ever. You can't let your guard down with these capitol people."

"I can with you." He caresses my cheek and I kiss him.

I delay with him as long as I can, cuddling and kissing him, trying desperately to fill myself with the comfort he brings me.

* * *

Thanks to Charlie_Awesome on Goodreads for her idea of having 2 Games in 1 year.

I'm from Louisiana, so when I was stuck on what to do with the arena, I thought, well duh, the swamp. Louisiana is under water in Panem (*sob, my precious state), so the arena location would be more toward southeast Texas or Arkansas. Probably all current swamps would be underwater, and I doubt a new swamp ecosystem would develop so soon after the world floods, but… willful suspension of disbelief. :D I'm sure you guys don't mind.

I'm excited about the upcoming chapters. I have finals this week, and a few weeks off, so I will try to churn out the next chapter in a few weeks, but I can't make promises.

Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5: The Quagmire

Sorry for the excessively long wait. I didn't intend to make this story so detailed, and I'm struggling with filling in the details, even though I know where I'm going with this. But thank you to all who are following and waiting patiently for the next chapter! I get swallowed up by life but I don't forget about you!

* * *

Chapter 5: The Quagmire

All I want to do is go home, but time seems to crawl while I wait with both anticipation and dread for the Games to end. I watch the other Mentors, wondering how they do this year after year. Haymitch had been in a constant drunken, carefree stupor before Peeta and I came along. Many of the victors drink or do drugs, but those mostly don't act as mentors. Some of the mentors even seem to enjoy this life. At one point, I stared disgustedly at Finnick as he runs his hand up the thigh of a blushing sponsor. But later, when his tribute died, I caught a glimpse of pain in his eyes. It was gone before anyone else could have seen, and he was already flirting with another sponsor, whispering into ears promises in exchange for helping his remaining tribute. I still don't think much of Finnick, but I finally see that there is a real person in there, someone who is just trying to keep a child alive. All of the Victors, awful people that we are, survived by killing others, and now we are just trying to endure and keep our children alive at the expense of others.

At home, the television is always showing one scene, whatever action is most exciting at the time. I believe this is the case on the Capitol screens as well. But the sponsor party has multiple screens to keep watch on all the tributes at once, even during the boring moments, something I never knew. It makes sense for the mentors to be able to keep an eye on their tributes and the sponsors to make decisions on where to spend their precious money. As the tributes die off, the extra screens show different angles of the more interesting tributes. I notice that they are mainly showing Careers and can't help but feel that this gives them an unfair advantage. Just one more out of many.

The swamp turns out to be a scary place. The Gamemakers artificially keep it dark for the majority of the day. Even so, it is sweltering hot and humid. It is infested with leeches and mosquitoes. Lira manages to partially shield herself from them by burying herself in grasses when she can find dry land. One tribute is eaten by an alligator. Another is attacked and escapes but dies from blood loss. Several are bitten by venomous snakes and die in pain. Even more become very ill. Travel in the muddy, watery land is slow and sometimes even treacherous. A few tributes step onto a false ground, get trapped in bogs, and drown. One tribute must leave behind thigh-high boot that he cannot retrieve from the mud. Water may be plentiful there, but it is not safe. The smart tributes boil the water before drinking. The ones who don't suffer painful diarrhea.

The tributes from District 4 are the most successful in this terrain. They still have trouble walking in the muck, but they know how to swim and they catch and eat fish, small crustaceans, and frogs. Most of the other tributes are stuck eating grass or nothing at all. One tribute eats a live frog, which he is barely able to keep down. The scene changes quickly, so the Game makers must deem it too repulsive for the Capitol audience. Lira manages to kill, cook, and eat a snake.

The pack that Lira was able to grab at the Cornucopia contains a knife. She tries to throw it several times at a tree but cannot get the blade to stick. Instead she uses the knife to carve a spear from the straightest branch she can find. It isn't straight enough to throw far, but it's a weapon. She has necessity to use it too. The girl from District 5 stumbles onto her camp and charges with a small axe. Lira's throw is sloppy but lands in the girl's belly. She collects the girl's supplies then moves to a new site to make a camp. Then she breaks down into tears.

The reporters want my reaction on this. They want to know what my first kill was like. My mind is a little frantic while I try to figure out how to express my feelings over Marvel's death without criticizing the Capitol or how to explain Lira's tears without making her seem weak. I explain it as the shock and adrenaline of almost losing one's life.

That night in our room, Peeta stands fidgeting with his pocket looking at nothing. I can tell something is bothering him.

"Peeta?"

"Chambray."

"What?"

He clears his throat. "That was the name of the girl I killed. Chambray."

"Foxface? Her name was Jacqueline."

"No, the girl I killed on the first night." I remembered. She lit a fire to keep warm and the Career Pack found her. Peeta had to go back to finish the job. "She was from District 8. Textiles," he continued. "She was moaning. She was scared. I told her that I was sorry and I couldn't help her. I slit her throat. I dream about her almost every night." Tears are streaming down his face.

"Peeta." I walk to him with my arms open, and he buries his face in my shoulder. I hold him for a long time. I kiss him. He kisses me back forcefully, desperate for comfort, and I oblige. He grips my arms painfully, and I wince but tolerate the pain. He calms after a while and rubs my arms, realizing that he hurt me.

"I'm sorry," he says, but I just wrap my arms around his neck and pull him close. He breathes in my hair and we just hold each other for a while.

Peeta is his normal, cheerful personality the next day as he narrates the Games and hosts interviews with Caesar. Occasionally if a Victor has a pleasant personality and enough popularity, they accompany the announcer on a day that is expected to be slow.

There are nine tributes left. They are spread out and tired and recovering from injuries. Yesterday was an action-packed day, so it is entertaining enough to see the tributes struggle through their injuries for now.

I am watching Lira wiggle uncomfortably with a rash from a poison plant when a man wearing black lip liner and purple spikes for hair approaches me. We engage in meaningless small-talk for a minute, something I'm learning is necessary for developing a rapport with Sponsors even if I think it's stupid to engage in such shallow conversation.

He gazes at me seductively under long purple eyelashes. "You know, the great thing about these sponsor parties is they don't place microphones in these rooms, so we can talk about a-ny-thing." I smile nervously at him and he leads me by hand to a secluded loveseat. He runs his hand up my thigh as he whispers in my ear. I shudder, hating this part about mentoring. This is the fourth time I've had to endure sexual harassment from sponsors. One sent Lira an antidiuretic, but the other two withdrew their offers when I declined sex with them. I'm trying to control my shivering when I hear what this man has been telling me.

"Katniss, we've been grooming you from day one. We've been waiting for a long time for someone from an outlying district who was capable of winning the games. You were a godsend. That's why Cinna volunteered for your district. That's why one of the game makers snuck the tracker-jackers in the tree above you. We wanted you to be a star and we wanted you to win."

"Why?" I whisper.

"Because you inspire people. You're the Mockingjay. We want you to help us start a rebellion."

I abruptly stand and step away from this stranger, this obvious spy from President Snow who was trying to trap me.

"Get away," I spit hostilely under my breath. I walk to the buffet table and shakily pour myself a glass of wine. I'm trying to appear calm, but it's so obvious I'm shaken up. For once, I'm glad the people around me think it's about sex.

I've managed to calm down and I'm faking laughter with other sponsors when that man sits next to me again. I have to keep smiling as he talks to me.

"Cinna never mentioned me, did he? I suppose he is rather busy, but you should ask him about me. I'm a friend." He winks and leaves.

That night Cinna confirms that this man is a friend and can be trusted.

I know that we cannot speak freely, but I have to know. "He said… that you volunteered to be my stylist… for a certain reason." I feel hurt, betrayed by a trusted friend.

"I volunteered because I believe in you," he soothes.

I shake my head and turn away from him. He thinks I want to lead a rebellion? "You've got me all wrong." I look him in the eyes, so that he understands what I'm really saying. "Everything I do, I do for my _family_."

He doesn't look surprised or disappointed at all. "I don't expect anything else, Katniss."

I'm feeling paranoid now. Is this all a setup? Do all the tributes get asked by a person they trust to join a rebellion? Has Cinna been a plant this whole time to make sure I stay in line once I became famous?

I fret over it, telling Peeta simply that a sponsor solicited me for sex and I was shaken up, until the next morning when I meet with Haymitch in the sponsors' room. He gives me the update on Lira then tells me that it's all true. "There are complex plans and many participants, but none of it will work without someone to unite the districts."

"Why don't they use any of the other victors? If so many of them are part of this? They're much more popular than I am."

He dismisses my suggestion. "The other victors are popular in the Capitol. You are the only one that is universally loved throughout the districts."

I shake my head at him and walk away. Haymitch doesn't care if we die. He has no family to care for. The Capitol already killed everyone he loves, so he has nothing left to lose. I can't focus while I watch the Games. My mind wanders as I talk to Sponsors. I convince no one to send Lira gifts. Then, suddenly, I am staring in shock at the screen, at the gaping mouth and wide blue eyes, and at the Career cleaning his sword. Lira is dead.

* * *

The actress who played Foxface is Jacqueline Emerson.


End file.
